Un Coeur Gris
by Tsurai Shi
Summary: DISCONTINUED. When he'd asked, Ron had never expected this… Harry was a gay, immortal, time traveling, Dark vampire who was in love with the Dark Lord.
1. Lose Yourself

"_Remember that no matter how your blood changes, you will always be yourself inside. There will always be people that love you and come to love you. Do not forget that, or you will lose yourself."_

--Excerpt from Hogwarts' letter to Harry, _Noir Et Blanc_

* * *

**I**t was a clear night and the stars above twinkled with all their heavenly beauty. It was moments like this that the Dark Lord found himself calm, which was becoming rarer by the day.

Voldemort only watched his rationality slipping away like water through dry sand. He knew and admitted to himself that he was not the most sane person in the world, not even normally sane. But with what was happening now, he felt almost like an observer in his own body, feeling the effects of his quickened anger when his wrath bore down on his followers.

Voldemort was a brilliant wizard. He knew the many rituals he'd put his mortal body and soul through would have some effects. Gone was his handsome face. Gone was his recognizable body, and in it's place was a pale grotesque creation born from a mangled ritual. Gone was his mercy. His heart was dead and sanity was finally falling out through the gap it had created.

A soft breeze rippled the grass beside him. The meadow Voldemort sat in was silent, as if sensing his need for it. This was peace. Here there were no Death Eaters to control, no war, no world conquest.

Quite suddenly, pain and rage crashed into him from all sides, and he could tell immediately that it wasn't his own.

Voldemort staggered where he stood as the field began to dissolve around him. He woke up in his darkened room on his bed. The source of his pain was the link, his link to Potter which he'd kept carefully closed off. He snarled.

"What the hell is that boy doing?"

* * *

**T**hrough the haze he fought, struggling upwards. Strings of the ink black haze seemed to wrap around his limbs and pull him down, but Harry persevered.

Surges of pain and nausea crashed like waves upon a shore, but still he fought his way toward awareness.

Harry tried to open his eyes but they stuck as if sewn shut.

His mind wasn't working properly and he couldn't remember anything. What was wrong? Why did he feel so terrible?

-Sssleep, Harry. All will be well sssoon.-

He drifted away.

_**T**here is nothing left for you there. You know it. Your mate is dead. Your cub is too ensnared in the Light to hear sense. Moony is calling you here. I can hear him. The Dark Lord is gathering followers, and he has promised our packs much._

_Come home cub. There is nothing left for you there._

_Fenrir _

Remus clutched the worn letter to his chest and sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, cub. I'm leaving…Harry…"

* * *

**H**arry sat on the couch facing the wall, staring despondently at it. Letalis was silent beside him and he'd let Hedwig out. She perched on the back of the couch, then with a fond nip on his ear she settled into sleep.

He was back in his own time...alive.

Ripped cruelly away and thrown to the last place he wanted to go.

He felt tears build up hotly behind his eyes as all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

He'd never fully explained about his vampiric powers. Thus, a line of reckoning came to mind.

Tom had thought he was dead; he'd gone to Grindelwald for power, though for what reason Harry couldn't fathom. He'd become Lord Voldemort. There were large gaps in Harry's reasoning, things he didn't know yet, but the rest was sound.

Tom thought he was dead. Tom was now Voldemort. He would not want Aspen…_**Harry**_ back.

Voldemort had done terrible things, Harry couldn't deny it. They were each other's worst enemies, with Voldemort trying to kill him time and again.

But he'd fallen in love with Tom. Tom was now Voldemort. The monster he'd become was still Tom, and Harry was still in love with him.

For the first, but not the last time, Harry thought of his immortality as curse. He wouldn't even be able to end it. Tom…Voldemort couldn't kill Harry, even if Harry let him.

Aspen cried.

* * *

**H**arry didn't return to Gryffindor Tower that night. When he finally pulled himself together enough to perform a tempus charm, it told him that only seven hours had passed since the time he 'left.' If he counted the period he spent unconscious, it was logical to assume that no time had passed between his leaving and coming back.

-It'sss almossst time for breakfassst,- Letalis said. It was the first time she'd spoken since he awoke.

-I don't want to go down for breakfast,- he muttered. -I'll stay here.- Letalis slithered around the back of the couch and settled on his shoulders, being careful not to disturb Hedwig.

-Dumbledore will be looking for you,- she hissed in his ear. Harry pushed her ticklish tongue away.

-It doesn't matter.- His voice was flat, dead to her ears. Letalis didn't like this one bit. A trickle of magic rushed through her and suddenly she was three times as big. She coiled her body around him, not tight enough to crush, but enough to pinion his arms. She knew very well that Harry could easily overpower and kill her no matter the size, but he wouldn't. Letalis stuck her face in his, locking eyes but making sure he could see her menacing fangs.

-Ssstop sssulking!- she spat angrily. -What'sss done hasss been done. Tom thinksss you are dead, ssso go and prove otherwissse!- Her grip loosened a bit when he didn't struggle against her. -Tom isss ssstill out there. He'sss ssstill alive in thisss time. He loved you Harry, I could sssee it,- her voice dropped to a soft hiss. She watched as Harry's eyes started to fill up with water. -He really loved you, and I think that he would accept you again if you ssshowed yourssself to him.-

It was all true. She'd really seen it. Even after such a short time knowing him, Letalis knew Tom would have given the world up for her vampire. Perhaps he still would.

She let him go then, sliding off him onto his lap. He sat still for a moment, with tears streaming down his cheeks and occasionally splashing her. Then he touched her scaly head softly. He always made sure his nails didn't scratch her.

-Thank you Letalis. I don't know what I'd do without you.-

* * *

**H**is eyes faded back to the Killing Green that he hadn't seen in many months. His hair was already sheared back to chin length, as painful as it'd been for him to do so. He'd grown attached to his shoulder length hair in the time he'd had it.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. He was back to looking like his 'normal' Harry Potter self. He sighed. It was time to go out and face the world, no matter how he might feel. He didn't want to get another scolding from Letalis, that he knew for sure.

He fished around in his trunk for a pair of clean Gryffindor robes and found them, but he froze. Wrapped up in them was a tiny glass globe, a little smaller than a Remembrall. However, this ball wasn't filled with red smoke. Instead, a tiny glittering galaxy rotated inside. The light of miniature stars sparkled against swirling space dust.

The gift was a present from Tom to him on Christmas morning. Harry's heart clenched. He remembered his utter joy when receiving the present, and how passionately he'd kissed Tom in thanks. How could he not? For him, it had only been yesterday morning.

For Tom, it had been fifty-four years.

The ball went back into the chest.

* * *

**H**arry walked quickly down the halls, stealthily avoiding students heading down to breakfast. Letalis hugged his neck under his robes. Both of them took note of the differences in Hogwarts between the present and the past. Really, very little had changed. A portrait here, a statue there, but otherwise everything was the same.

Finally, he stood before the entrance of the Great Hall. There was no sense in hesitating. That would just mean more people would be in the Hall to stare at him. He would just 'present' himself long enough to let them know he was alive, then he would leave. It was a good plan when the timing worked in his favor. Only the earliest of risers would be up this early in the morning.

Harry stepped around the threshold and into people's line of sight. Without delay he felt twenty pairs of eyes flash to him.

The Gryffindor table was empty. Two Hufflepuffs and a scattering of Ravenclaws were present. Over at the Snake table he saw a clique of Slytherins already eating while another sat apart. He recognized Draco right away. The boy looked more haggard than ever, and he was sending wary looks at his housemates every few bites.

Harry felt a sharp stab of guilt. He'd promised Malfoy that he would protect him, but he'd practically ignored him over the past months, with the blond being so quiet and Harry being preoccupied with his own problems. One of his hands clenched into a fist. He would talk to Draco soon, he promised himself.

Dumbledore was there, but he remained in his chair when he entered. Harry met the twinkling eyes and saw them go just a bit cool. It seemed that the Headmaster was still uptight from their encounter 'yesterday.' Also, Dumbledore still had his holly wand. Harry frowned. He'd have to get that back soon. It wouldn't do to go waving about his yew wand.

Harry moved to the Gryffindor table, near the end closest to the doors. As he sat he felt a sharp edge jab him from the pocket of his robes. He shifted slightly to accommodate the edge. Inside his pocket was a shrunken book.

Harry couldn't help the small screech he made when he'd received the book. Just as he'd been leaving the Room this morning, book slammed into the ground in front of him in much the same manner as he'd dropped the potions book onto Snape's desk. Harry sensed a faint smugness from Hogwarts. He'd supposed it was her manner of gift-giving. In any case, he'd had no time to look at it, as he'd wanted to be early for breakfast. So, he'd shrunken the leather-bound book and now it rested in his pocket.

Harry got up after finishing his fruit salad.

'Thank goodness today's a free day.'

* * *

**H**e stopped reading the scribbled text, choosing instead to gape at it.

"If…if this is true…"

-You have to see Tom. Now, tonight, tomorrow, as soon as possible.- Letalis hissed fervently.

Salazar Slytherin's journal fell to the unforgiving floor.


	2. Heartache

* * *

_"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal."_

**From a headstone in Ireland**

* * *

Blood. He wanted blood. No, he _needed _it.

Harry sighed and sat down, popped the cork off a vial and chugged it.

Bloodlust gone.

He was in the Room of Requirement once again, staring down at an open page.

Salazar's journal had been difficult to read. First, it was somehow written in Parseltongue, so it took concentration for the squiggly lines to morph themselves into words. He couldn't turn the Parseltongue into Roman characters, but he'd been very glad to discover that a translation charm worked for transforming the combination of Old English and Anglo-Saxon it was written in into a resemblance of modern English.

Proceeding to read, it wasn't long before the shock of its contents paralyzed him.

But then, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

_Decades of research have come and gone. The facts are all laid out before me. I have proof behind every scrap of knowledge I presented to them, yet still they refuse to believe. _

_Rowena has seen fit to discard my theories. Despite her intelligence, she cannot seem to see that the muggle race she is so fascinated with is slowly killing us. Helga and Godric simply do not have enough reason between them. They go along with whatever Rowena says._

_The muggles fear and loathe our kind, that is a fact; but we have hidden away from them. No, it is not their hate that will kill us._

_It is their blood._

_They rejected this simple theory, only because it threatened their own ideals: Each wizard child is born with magic in their blood. It is part of the child's inheritance from their parents. _

_These days, there are more and more magicless squibs born from pureblood families. My research had led me to believe that they are a direct result of inbreeding among the pureblooded families, as every case shows. _

_These squibs are then cast into the muggle world and forgotten about; however, a study of several new 'muggleborn' students has cast something truly surprising into the light. Every single muggleborn child is distantly descended from an outcast squib. This is one of the things that Helga condemns me for. I took the blood for research without the students' permission…_

_On another side of the issue are the wizards that choose to breed with muggles, disgusting in their habits as they are. While the children of these unions generally have no ill effects when it comes down to their magic, **their** children and children's children show a gradual weakening as they continue to marry into the muggle race._

_I have come to a conclusion that, I must admit, terrifies me. _

_While muggleborns are the products of inbred magic finally having enough new blood to spark up again, children of wizard/muggle unions are weak. Their blood becomes so pathetic as to no longer be able to retain magic._

_I do not know why, but it is so._

_The wizards around me will not listen. They do not agree._

_We have built a school to last a millennium…for a race that may not exist in two thousand years…_

He had to show Tom.

* * *

His quill dripped ink onto the desk, but Harry simply wiped it away.

He had no clue what to say. Even if he did get Tom to meet with him, he wasn't naive enough to think for a moment that he'd welcome him with open arms.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. The worst that could happen is that Tom would try to kill him, fail, and Harry would go find someone to pass his curse off to so that he would not be a burden on the other.

He sighed. It was a principally miserable prospect. The quill met parchment. He wrote.

* * *

_Come to the graveyard tomorrow night._

_I will be alone._

_H.P._

Voldemort stared down at the letter in disbelief for a moment.

"What the hell?"

Did the stupid Gryffindor boy want a 'final showdown,' or something of the sort? Had Dumbledore's brainwashing finally gotten to him? Or was the child-hero really naïve enough to believe that he would win, in some sort of 'good over evil' cant?

He stared at the letter some more, forcing his lipless mouth to close from its slack position. It could be a trick; but then, it was an incredibly stupid one. He doubted anyone on the Light side would have gone along with the boy on a venture such as this one.

Voldemort crumpled the letter in his hand. Perhaps Potter just had a death wish. The Dark Lord would be happy to comply.

It never occurred to him to wonder how the snowy owl had found him, so lost in thought was he.

* * *

Harry fell back into the class routine easily, having done the same coursework already. It seemed that not much had changed in the way of schooling over the course of fifty years.

The other students avoided him, staring when he passed by. They were afraid of him blowing up at them like he had at Hermione and Ron. Harry sneered to himself. Their fear permeated the air whenever he came near.

The Daily Prophet, eager for more gossip about the Boy-Who-Lived, had published another article wondering as to his sanity, only thinly veiled behind a report of his recent behavior. It had been published by a writer he didn't recognize. Harry briefly wondered how they'd gotten their information so quickly, but then decided he didn't give a damn. The wizarding world could stew in their own speculations.

Harry was too impatient. He desperately wanted to see Tom.

He was nervous; terrified, even. There came the question of what he'd do if Tom _did_ accept him.

Would he betray the Light side?

Harry didn't think too deeply on that: he was almost afraid of the answer.

* * *

Voldemort strode down the hall of his manor. His silken black robes flowed behind him, the delicate fabric giving the sense of trailing darkness wherever he went.

He rounded corner, coming upon the figure of a short, watery-eyed man.

"Wormtail," he hissed. The man jumped and spun around, bowing nearly to the ground.

"M-my lord," he stuttered. Voldemort sneered down at the sniveling weakling before turning away. He had no time for such a fool.

"I am leaving. Remember to feed Nagini," At the look of utter terror on Wormtail's face, he chuckled darkly. "I have told her not to eat you," he turned and headed to the Apparation point in the manor, "…yet."

The last, Wormtail didn't hear.

* * *

It took a great amount of power to Apparate silently, but Voldemort did so with ease. He stood in the shadows of the tree line that surrounded the graveyard. The night was dim in the light of a crescent moon and the air had a slight nip to it. Across the clearing he could see the outlines of tombstones.

Voldemort extended his senses and searched, his eyes raking over every shadow and possible hiding place.

There was no one else here. He walked forward silently. There was no sense in bringing the Death Eaters on this little trip. They were incompetent in anything but battle, and delicate things like waiting to catch the enemy off guard often escaped them.

Would the boy even come? Voldemort had to admit that his curiosity was peaked. He hadn't even come across any traps yet.

Finally he arrived, his feet knowing instinctually where to take him.

Ten meters away, his hated father's gravestone still stood. At the foot of the stone, a crouched figure sat. As Voldemort took in the figure's dark outline, something started to nag at him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and he waved it away before he could analyze it further. He decided to announce his presence.

"Potter," he said. The menace in his voice was enough to surprise even himself. The figure stiffened, then slowly rose from his sitting position. The Dark Lord found his breath catching in his throat as braided hair came into the light. There was something so…familiar about this.

Then Potter turned around, and Voldemort let loose a choked noise. Coal black hair shone in the moonlight, a gold gaze burned into his, and on his brow was the renowned lightning scar.

Voldemort couldn't react. The face that had blurred and faded with time, as all memories do, now reigned with stark clarity in his mind.

It was the instantly recognizable face of his lover from more than fifty years before…

"Tom," Potter spoke softly.

He could feel his carefully bridled memories slipping from his control and crashing about in his head, causing pain with the recollections they evoked. Unexpected rage washed through him as he saw the eyes turned on him flicker from green to gold and back again.

"This is not possible."

That was the only warning the boy received before the Dark Lord smashed into his way into barriers that weren't even there, colliding into Potter's mind with the force of a tidal wave.

He didn't know that Harry had already taken down all his Occlumency barriers and pushed certain thoughts and memories to the forefront. He knew what Voldemort would be looking for.

They both collapsed as the void of his mind sucked them in.

* * *

At first, images came at him from all sides. Soon they subsided, giving way to a string of memories. Soon Voldemort would know the truth. He wasn't in control of this mind, Harry was.

His first stop was the memory of a familiar office and a silver figure risen from a basin.

Voldemort strained to hear the words that came through to him as if muffled by a wool blanket.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies... "_

There it faded, and he was taken away before he could see more. Voldemort's mind worked quickly to comprehend what was said. Before he could think further he was thrown into another memory.

He was walked through a few memories of Harry's childhood, then moved through important events all through Harry's school years. All the trials the boy had faced were paraded before Voldemort. Finally the scene of his Turning came to the front.

"_You accepted my offer Aspen. Why?" _

"_I…I need my own path now." His eyes burned with a determination Voldemort could see from far away. _

Then he came upon the boy's memories as Aspen Noir. They were all the little things: the way their hands brushed when they worked together on a potion, the way Aspen would notice Tom's appreciative glances when he thought he wasn't looking, how he loved the kisses Tom stole from him in the privacy of their room.

There were bigger things too: Aspen walking in on Tom in the bathroom and the empathy he'd felt, Aspen's gratitude to him the morning after the Halloween incident, and the time he'd found the book.

The book…Voldemort's mind reeled back in shock. He hadn't known.

_Harry hadn't noticed it the first time he saw it. He'd been too busy stumbling and coughing up blood to see Tom shove it under his pillow. The second time he saw it, at was peeking out of the not-quite-closed drawer of Tom's nightstand. Harry gave in to his insatiable curiosity and picked it up. It was a tiny leather-bound tome, dusty and untitled. He found it odd._

_What interest would Tom have in a book like this?_

_He knew he really shouldn't be invading Tom's privacy in such a manner and though he fought it, his curiosity won out. He opened the book to the first page._

_**Horcruxes**_

_Harry froze, the book nearly falling from limp fingers. The very…**evil** the word possessed cut through him like an ice-covered dagger. With uncontrollably trembling fingers, he read the next page, then the next. _

_Killing to split your soul and seal it away? Supposed immortality? It was only thinly veiled that the price would be your mind._

_It all clicked into place with the suddenness of a lightning bolt. **This** was what Tom would--Voldemort **had** done to gain his immortality; but what would drive him to such utter madness? It was made quite clear by the book that such a ritual was a curse, not a blessing. Harry liked to think he knew Tom well enough to know that he would never attempt such a thing as he was now. That still left the question unanswered. _

_He sighed and put the book down. No matter how much he wanted to ask Tom about it, he couldn't change the future. It was best to leave it be rather than strain their relationship over some unavoidable factor, no matter how much the knowledge hurt him. _

_Harry gave the book one last glance before leaving. He needed to calm down before he saw Tom again. The Room would be just the place._

The memories came again, rushing by faster and faster in a overflow of feelings. Then he came to the final scene, where two boys sat sipping Butterbeer and holding hands under the table. Then came that dreaded scream.

It was too much for him. Voldemort wrenched away and fell with a snap back into his own mind.

* * *

When Voldemort came to, he was his knees in the damp grass. He looked up to see the young man crouched on the grass before him, eyes eerily wide with concern. He noticed they were both breathing raggedly from the strain Voldemort's attack had created.

"Aspen…" he spoke the name slowly. He'd not said it in many years and it's memory still sent a twinge of pain through him. The young man perked up, leaning closer. Hesitantly, he reached up and brushed his jaw. His pale fingers met warm skin: it was no illusion.

The love of his life was alive, and he was Harry Potter.

Aspen reached up to grasp his hand, but Voldemort pulled it away.

"Please…" he hissed quietly, "please leave." He needed time to deal with this. Time to think, reflect and decide.

Voldemort nearly winced when the other flinched, but one look at his face told him the other understood. Aspen was weeping.

He watched as the other closed his eyes and dissolved in a manner that stabbed him painfully with memories of death.

All Voldemort wanted to do at the moment was curl up and cry, but he wasn't even sure if this body could shed tears.

He Disapparated.

* * *

A/n: This chapter is for EmpyrealFantasy who, in all of her uber fantastic royal yayness, betaed this for me in twenty minutes. Thanks soooo much!

Voldemort was pulled through Harry's mind so easily because Harry took him by surprise and ended up guiding him to the memories he wanted anyway. Plus, Harry has deceptive strength.

Please review!


	3. The Essential is Invisible

On ne voit bien qu'avec la couer. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

_(It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. The essential is invisible to the eyes.)_

¤

Ron still had marks on his arm were the tentacles bit into him.

Madame Pomphrey had said they were gone after she healed him last year, but Ron knew better. They were still there, just hidden. He would never be free from the effect that the brain from the Department of Mysteries had on him.

'_Watch your back.'_

It had hurt terribly. It was the crashing of a thousand minds upon his own, forcing in mountains of knowledge that contradicted itself and stretched in millions of directions. Nothing could help with it, no matter how he tried. His world often faded out as he was bombarded with images and voices he'd never experienced before. Not to mention their constant advice…

Then he'd discovered Hermione. Her voice, her touch anchored him to the real world, giving him something to focus on. He couldn't have been happier when she became his girlfriend. Ron loved her, and now she would be able to help him all the time.

He tried to tell her once, how the brain had effected him, but back then his words still wouldn't come out properly. She merely stared at him for a moment, then smiled and patted his arm patronizingly.

"Don't worry Ron, it's just the shock. It'll pass," then she walked into class, convinced that she was right.

He never tried to tell her again, and just settled for being with her; his anchor.

'_Don't trust her.'_

However, in the past week the voices and images had slowed, bringing clarity to his mind. He assumed that the information he'd gotten from the brain was finally settled in. At last, he was able to truly focus on chess, schoolwork, and his other best friend.

Oh, Harry.

What had he done?

'_Idiot.'_

¤

In his dim bedchamber, Voldemort sat alone except for Nagini. He'd forbidden anyone to disturb him unless there was a true emergency, on pain of prolonged and bloody torture.

On second thought, he'd torture them anyway. He needed to relieve some stress.

-Massster, what isss wrong? You have been sssitting asss if frozen to that chair,- Nagini asked him from her place on the floor. Voldemort brought a hand up to knead his forehead. He still had a headache from his attack on Potter's mind six days ago.

-Leave me be, Nagini. I need to think.-

The snake hissed her displeasure at being so easily dismissed but obeyed, curling up on the rug and falling into sleep.

Voldemort did not care about his callousness; his mind was fixated on Harry Potter. A thousand different things involving him were rushing wildly about in his head, and even with Occlumency he was having a hard time organizing everything. His unchecked emotions didn't help the matter at all.

Harry Potter. Aspen Noir. If he calmed himself enough, his mind didn't have much trouble accepting the fact that the two were one and the same. After all, he'd been in the boy's mind twice; first when he possessed him at the Department of Mysteries, then the occurrence in the graveyard. He knew how he thought.

At the thought of the Department of Mysteries, he grimaced.

The boy knew the entirety of the prophecy, and he had passed it on to him.

_Neither can live while the other survives…_

That one line struck him. The marking him as an equal part came as a shock when he analyzed it, but Voldemort dismissed it. It was in the past now and there was nothing he could do about his actions.

Neither can live while the other survives…he had a fine example of not 'living'. What kind of life did he live now? He snarled under his breath, fingers itching for his wand. He was well aware that this existence wasn't something that anyone would desire. In fact, he knew most would pity him for knowing the truth. The prophecy said he wouldn't be able to live a full life until he killed the boy.

His personal feelings aside, it would be impossible. The boy had achieved true immortality, unlike his own farce with the Horcruxes. Voldemort's face contorted and he ran a hand over his bald head as he was so prone to doing these days. The rituals were driving him slowly insane, but Potter would have to suffer none of these consequences. He dared to venture a feeling of…jealousy.

A few simple stages were all it took for Potter to gain his immortal life.

He stared down at his own wrist, lost in memory. As Tom Riddle, he had helped him out of love.

Voldemort shook his head and looked away. His thoughts were becoming more foolish by the second, but he couldn't fight them. He'd loved Aspen Noir with all he'd had to offer and in return…

Skeletal fingers gently settled on the ring around his neck.

In return, Aspen had pledged his eternal love.

Voldemort was not unintelligent. He knew that when Harry Potter came back to this time he could have simply acted like nothing happened. He could've fallen back in to his Golden Boy stature. He could've quietly hunted down his Horcruxes and obliterated them without his knowledge. Then…he could have killed _him_.

Voldemort squeezed his eyes shut tight. He'd come to a decision.

He ripped the chain from his neck.

¤

Harry couldn't sit still. He twiddled his holly wand between his fingers. He'd finally gotten it back a few days ago in a blank package on his bed. Up until that point he'd been sitting still in class, mildly embarrassed and pretending he didn't have a wand.

It'd been a week of nothing. No Death Eater attacks, no meetings, no emotions across the link that Harry kept open. Nothing.

His only consolation was that Voldemort hadn't started cursing him into mush the moment he recovered. It was a tiny hope for his acceptance that Harry clung to with all his might.

Still, the hope was dying.

Harry sat in the back of the library at a dusty old table. Most students didn't like to sit in the back unless they had something to hide. However, Harry was here out of habit. It was where he always sat with Tom. He sighed and pocketed his wand.

He had a few things to wrap up before he left. If Tom didn't accept him, Harry would leave. He just needed to keep his promise and make sure Draco and his mother were well-protected first.

Harry frowned as he heard footsteps approaching. Not many bothered coming back here. He looked up between the bookshelves to see the last person he expected.

Ron Weasley shifted hesitantly where he stood.

Harry felt a sharp stab of guilt as he looked at his former friend. He hadn't been thinking very rationally that day, or the months before that for that matter. He knew he should apologize. Really, losing Ron and Hermione's long-time friendship over such a stupid thing…

"Er, Harry? Could I please sit?" Ron asked, fidgeting.

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a little bubble of hope rise in his chest. Maybe he would still have a friend.

¤

Ron had never been one for apologizing; not when he accidentally broke Ginny's toy broom, or when he once nearly blew up the Burrow's kitchen with accidental magic. But Ron knew he'd have to apologize now.

Ron sat down beside Harry at the dusty table. He stirred, feeling uncomfortable with the other's flat stare leveled at him. It didn't look like Harry was going to start talking anytime soon. He cleared his throat.

¤

"I...I want to apologize," Ron was fidgeting, and as much as Harry had hope, he couldn't help feeling pessimistic after the recent week.

"What for, Ron?" Harry said with a weary sigh, peering up through a stray hair that had fallen over his eyes. He wanted to hope...he wanted his friend back. With the possible loss of Tom, he could use a friend so badly...

"I'm...really sorry that I didn't tell you about me and 'Mione. I mean...we should have, I know. But I've just been so...I don't know," the redhead sighed and viciously stabbed a hand through his hair, "But I'm sorry. I should have written over the summer, and I should have told you that we were dating. You're my best mate, Harry, and I don't want a repeat of fourth year." By now Ron's ears were burning red, showing his embarrassment and apprehension.

A small smile managed its way to Harry's lips, "You don't have to apologize for that. I was being an arse anyway, I guess… I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"Well, we were both right idiots, weren't we?" he said bluntly.

Harry's smile widened, "Yeah, I guess we were."

"Friends then?" the redhead asked tentatively, holding out his hand.

For a long moment Harry looked at him, biting his lip hard enough to be painful. Ron was his first friend. His best friend. Even if he couldn't come out and tell him of the last months, he needed the support right now. He gave a sharp nod and let the hope overtake him, "Yeah, friends."

¤

As Harry clasped Ron's hand in his own, the voices reached a deafening level, conflicting advice echoing off the walls of his mind.

_'Don't trust him.' 'He's after you, too.' 'You're such an idiot.' 'Friends only exist to betray you.'_

Ron gasped as he pulled away, both his hands moving to push against his temples.

"Ron?" Harry's concerned voice called, "Ron, what's wrong?"

Ron jerked spastically, wishing to pull back the long sleeve of his robes and bare the marks the brain had felt on him. He willed his body to move, to seek help, because Harry was _Harry_ and surely if anyone would believe him...

¤

That night, Ron buried his head into the pillow and sighed.

He'd wanted to tell Harry about his problem, really. It was just that the other looked so worn down are sickly lately, he didn't have the heart to worry him more.

'_Stupid, don't tell him anything!'_

Plus, the voices were constantly ridiculing his decision. It didn't help with his confidence at all. They kept telling Ron to be wary around Harry, that there was something wrong with him. As hard as Ron tried, they just couldn't be ignored.

He sighed again and turned over.

'Might as well try to get some sleep.'

'_Don't forget the shield charms.'_

He waved his wand lazily before going to sleep.

¤

That night, Harry buried his head in his pillow but made no other movements.

He stayed that way for a long time, his mind a mass of confusion, hope, and guilt. He didn't know what had caused the sudden change in Ron's mentality, but he was grateful for it all the same. Now if only he found time to talk to Hermione, perhaps he could start to share his secrets with his friends.

He and Ron hadn't had much time to talk after the initial overtures because they both had class afterwards, but Harry had noticed something…different about him. He couldn't pin it down. It was like Ron was moving differently; a bit more wary and distant; plus, the sudden headache he'd had was a bit strange. But then, Harry himself had changed a great deal and hadn't really talked to Ron in a while, so maybe he just hadn't noticed his behavior before.

As if Fate was protesting the general turn of today's thoughts, he suddenly _felt it_.

Over his bond of eerie green, a sense of beckoning began to tug at him.

Harry's breath stopped. Tom was calling.

¤

A/n: Yes, writer's block is killing me. Empy is the only reason this thing got off the ground.

Sorry if this squicks anyone, but Voldemort will be staying scaly, for a while at least. OMG look! More plot!

The Ron and Harry scenes were written entirely (with a little editing to suit my purposes) by EmpyrealFantasy in her effort to kill my writer's block. It's being used with her permission. Review please!


	4. Stick With Love

I've been asked by certain people to warn you when things like sex happen. Now, I know this is a sequel, but for god's sake, there's a label in the summary that says **HPLV,** _not_ HPTR. If the thought of HPLV disgusts you, even if you like HPTR, then please don't read this story, because Harry is now with an older, more experienced and scaly Tom, called Voldemort. :P

**Warning** for kissing.

* * *

I've decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

**Martin Luther King Jr.**

¤

As much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't set out right away. He had to wait until he was sure all of his dorm mates were sound asleep. He could tell that Ron had only just settled in from his restless breathing.

He was restless as he lay there, mind racing through countless possibilities. Why had it taken so long for Tom to call him? Maybe he didn't want to talk. Maybe he was going to hurt him, hurt him as much as he could for all the pain Harry had caused. His breath hitched as bloody images of Tom turning his wand on him flew through his head.

'No! Don't be stupid. Why am I only thinking of these things now?'

It was a little late for doubts. He just had to move forward.

Finally, the deep snores of every occupant in the room alerted him to the fact he could now slip away undetected. He pulled his wand from under the pillow.

"_Accresco capillus," _Harry whispered under his breath. He felt his hair snake its way down to his shoulder blades once more. Another wave of his wand summoned his cloak. He didn't know where he was going to end up and it was chilly tonight.

As the clasp clicked together, Harry cast a final glance around the room. Clear. Letalis slithered up his arm and around his neck, shrinking to a diminutive size.

Then Harry disappeared, following the ever insistent call.

He didn't see Ron sit up.

¤

The fire in the hearth had long since gone out, dying beneath his inattention. The room was now only illuminated by the soft glow of candles and dim lanterns that hung from the walls. Voldemort leaned against the stony wall, bracing himself with one hand while staring into the fire pit.

He'd opened the link several hours ago and now the waiting was causing his skin to crawl. Doubts were creeping into his head. Maybe the other had changed his mind, found Voldemort in his new body disgusting. Perhaps he'd decided to stay with the Light-

His thoughts were cut off by a shift in the air, displaced by another entity. Immediately Voldemort felt his skin tingle with the power of an unleashed Dark aura. In his age, Voldemort was able to feel it much more intensely than he had before. The very texture of the darkness begged him to turn around and be closer to the being it was emanating from. He fought the urge, his shoulders tensing with the strain. He just didn't know what to say.

-Oh, for Merlin'sss sssake, jussst talk to him, Assspen!-

The hiss startled him. Voldemort hadn't sensed another in the room. Slowly, he turned, eyes roving about the room until they landed on Aspen's shadowed form, white coils draped about his shoulders. The coils took the form of a snake, who cocked her head in his direction.

-Long time no sssee, Tom.-

It was the mysterious snake that had driven his mind so far in the past, Letalis. Here was the final proof to the boy's story.

Aspen walked cautiously forward, each step slow and unsure. When he made no move to do anything, the boy came closer, until Voldemort could see his face in stark detail.

He'd been young and foolish in those days, when he'd fallen in love with that face, that body, that soul. Young, he may no longer be, but it appeared he was still just as unwise. He could almost forget that the person before him was an enemy.

-Thisss isss boring. Kissss and make up ssso I can go back to sssleep,- Letalis once again interrupted Voldemort's thoughts. He was about to speak to her when the other finally stepped closer and Letalis slid from his shoulders to the floor.

Aspen's metallic eyes met his own, quivering with some unreadable feeling. He finally spoke.

-I loved you, you know. Even though I knew who you were and what you'd become.-

Voldemort's hand slid off the stone wall to fall to his side. He drew himself up to his full height to face Aspen squarely, but didn't say a word.

The vampire drew near to him until he was only a foot away. Voldemort took in the way his shoulders shook with nervousness, but couldn't bring himself to pick one emotion out of the many that boiled in his chest. Out of them all, even though he'd already made a decision, doubt prevailed.

-Do you really think I'd stop now?-

The words were in Parseltongue and the boy was speaking nothing but the truth. This time he whipped red eyes to meet the other's pensive expression.

-Yesss.- His answer was clear and without hesitation. It was almost morbidly amusing to see the shock that riddled the vampire's face. -There is very little I can truly believe anymore. How can you say you say you still love me, when I am torn between the urge to kill you…- Voldemort took a ominous step forward, his right hand shooting out to grasp the boy's chin, -…and kiss you?-

Already warmth was seeping into his joints from contact with Aspen's skin. He fought the compulsion to move it, to let his fingers rove all over the other's flesh. Aspen, for his part, didn't jerk away. He stood still, listening.

-You were sent back in time, far from the _horrors_ of today's world. It would have been so easy for you to forget what you'd left behind, and fall in love with me,- Voldemort bent low, his face mere inches from Aspen's, -What you say, Potter, can only be truth, but how do I know that your rose-tinted vision will not shatter in disssgussst at my evil, murdering waysss?- as his throat closed up with emotion Voldemort's speech descended to a sheer hiss, and the last part said in searing sarcasm.

Gentle fingertips pressed against Voldemort's cheek, along with the reminding edge of deadly nails.

"Tom." There was that name again, reminding that he was the only person besides Dumbledore who spoke it, who would ever have permission to call him anything but "my lord."

-I know better than anyone else of the crimes you've committed. I was disillusioned long ago. Tom, I know it will be hard for both of us, but…I will always love you.- Aspen tilted closer so that his nose touched Voldemort's nonexistent one and he could feel the heat of his breath. -I swear.-

This was too much temptation for Voldemort to resist. He finally gave in to action and bent to claim Aspen's lips.

¤

As soon as Tom slid his arms around his waist, he knew what was coming and joined in, pulling him closer with a hand to the neck.

Harry felt a fire where their mouths melded together. It sent a jolt down his spine stronger than he'd ever experienced before, even with Tom's younger self.

For a man with no visible lips, there was a surprising amount of suction.

And there was pain beneath it all. Pain and desperation radiated off the other, from the kiss to the way he held Aspen so tightly.

Harry broke the kiss with a gasp and looked up into burning eyes.

"How…long has it been since your last kiss?" he forced the words from reluctant lips. It almost hurt to ask. Voldemort's nonexistent eyebrows scrunched together in a suffering wince.

"Fifty-four years."

Harry gaped in shock. "You mean…since I-" Voldemort's palm caressing his cheek once again cut him off.

"There has been nothing since you left, Aspen. I have accepted no one." He leaned down so that Harry could feel breath upon his face. It burned his cheeks red. "I loved no one else."

Tom kissed him again.

¤

"I have to leave. Sunrise is in an hour and I have to get back before anyone notices I'm gone."

Voldemort said nothing, simply watching as Aspen picked up his cloak from the back of the couch where they'd sat. Nothing more had happened after the kiss. Neither were ready to take another step in rebuilding their relationship with things so delicate between them.

They'd talked for hours, about things both important and inconsequential, attempting to bridge the gaps between them. Sometimes Letalis joined in, and it was only at her prompting that the younger remembered the book he'd brought with him- Slytherin's journal.

When he'd reached out to take it, he almost missed Aspen's reaction. The vampire gasped at the sight of the promise ring on his left hand, eyes flickering to his face and back before his face broke into a wide smile. After things calmed down a bit, it was Voldemort's turn to be shocked by the ancient book in his hands. Though he'd itched to start pawing through it right away, he put Aspen as a first priority.

Said vampire broke him from his thoughts.

"What happened to that girl, the one who sent me back with the Killing Curse?"

Voldemort's hands clenched into fists and visions ran across his sight. He remembered breaking the binding spell, blinded and empty but for rage and sorrow, tearing at her throat with his nails, demanding that she give him back.

Give him back…

Tom hadn't cared about Maddie's revenge for her brother, the Head of the orphanage that he'd killed for beating him.

He'd only wanted his Aspen back.

"I killed her."

That was all he said.

¤

A/n: I will say it again, things that may seem wildly random now may have significance later. Other things…are just random. I like to touch on things mentioned _way_ earlier in the story. It's something I've always liked about To Kill A Mockingbird and the HP books themselves: the insignificant details play major parts.

_Latin_- grow hair. Reviews, pretty please?


	5. Friendship's Eyes

_"Love is blind; friendship closes its eyes."_

Unknown

Ron awoke groggily, wondering dimly where the fading figure that was Harry was going.

'_He's acting very suspicious_,' a voice interjected softly, so as not to break Ron from his hazy slump.

'Yeah,' he agreed, yawning.

'_You should kill him before he comes after you_.'

Ron blinked slowly. '…What?'

The voices were conspicuously silent.

Ron sighed and fell back into his pillow. Some things were better left until tomorrow.

¤

When he awoke that morning to find Harry's bed still empty, Ron shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it and besides, he wanted breakfast! His stomach rumbled in agreement. Groggy still, Ron pulled on some robes and headed out.

Upon entering the Great Hall he immediately saw Harry. It was a relief that now he didn't have to worry overly much. Harry wasn't missing, at least. Instead the other boy was hunched over a plate of fruit and mashing up his cantaloupe rather violently.

While normally Ron would have been hesitant about approaching him when he was in such a mood -- and considering his reaction the last time they'd tried to 'talk' here, that wasn't unwarranted -- after yesterday's conversation he felt a little more confident.

It still didn't stop him from quailing a little from Harry's emotion-ridden stare when he sat down across from him. Luckily, a small smile from Harry a moment later served to put him more at ease.

"Morning," Ron said, pulling a platter of sausages his way. Harry had gone back to poking at the soggy mess of melon.

"Morning," Harry murmured back. Ron could see dark bruises under his eyes, and remembered he hadn't stayed awake long enough to find out when Harry got back from wherever he'd been. It also raised the question of how he'd been able to disappear like that. Hermione had drilled into both of them that you couldn't Apparate at Hogwarts.

Now, Ron wasn't the brightest wand in the shop, but he enough tact to know not to ask Harry anything about his departure when he was in such a mood.

Instead he asked, "Rough night?" It seemed a safe and expected question. Harry only nodded, finally scooping up his mush and taking a bite. Ron sighed and looked around for the eggs.

¤

Harry really didn't feel like eating anything, but under Ron's inquiring gaze he did his best.

He knew he _should_ be happy with Tom's acceptance of him. But that also left him between a rock and a hard place.

_Would he betray the Light side?_

The simplest answer was yes. He'd already promised Tom his eternal love, and that meant being by his side. Going Dark seemed more appetizing as time went on.

Even now he was starting to grate under Dumbledore's hawk-like gaze. The man hadn't stopped watching him from the moment he'd stepped into the room, observing his every move as if to measure him.

'You'll be so disappointed with those measurements, old man.'

His demeanor had changed much from what it had been at the beginning of the year, in this time. Harry had learned and seen much that he hadn't before.

Dumbledore's Golden Boy had been destroyed somewhere along the line. He could now see the many maneuvers the aged wizard had employed to shape his life. His mentor was gone, replaced by a master of manipulation. Harry could leave with no regrets on that factor.

What he would be repentant for was the betrayal of his friends. Harry glanced at Ron, taking in his freckled friend's frowning face. They'd only just recovered from the last blow to their friendship. He hated to think how Ron might react to even his _reasons_ for going Dark, let alone the _side_ he was going to.

There was Remus, whom Harry couldn't bear to think of. The werewolf had always been adamantly for the Light, supporting Dumbledore's decisions; especially when it came to Harry's protection. Adding that to the fact that werewolves were natural enemies of the vampires - though he didn't know if it was the same for Ancients - Remus would _hate_ him. Harry dreaded the day when he found out of his new allegiances, for the day would come all too soon.

Harry's thoughts were disrupted by a prickling at the back of his neck signaling someone besides Dumbledore was staring at him.

He looked up to see a bushy head glaring at him from halfway across the Gryffindor table. She'd come in with neither he nor Ron noticing. He felt his eyebrows shoot up when she glared at him harder. Harry had nothing against Hermione; in fact, he'd been planning to talk to her sometime this week and apologize for yelling.

But the way she was glaring at him made him feel as if he'd committed some atrocity much greater than simply yelling at her. Her gaze shifted to Ron and glared at him too. By this time he'd noticed Harry was distracted by something and looked too. The shocked look on his face convinced him Ron didn't know why she was glaring at them either. He leaned closer to the red-head.

"Did you and Hermione have a fight or something?"

Ron shook his head, still staring back at the glaring girl, "No! I haven't talked to her since before I went to see you in the library yesterday." Then a look of horror came over his face, "I was supposed to meet her down by the lake yesterday! I forgot," he groaned.

Harry blinked and glanced back at Hermione, his own troubles forgotten for the moment.

Then Hermione stood up and stalked out of the Hall with the air of an offended cat.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron called after her, but she either didn't hear or listen. With one quick apologetic look to Harry, Ron jumped up and ran after her.

Harry simply stared at the doorway they'd left through, melon-filled spoon still in midair. Then he shrugged and turned back to his plate and his brooding.

He'd been sick of being mediator between them before, and he wasn't about to start again.

¤

"Hermione!…Hermione!" Ron finally caught up her halfway up the staircase. She didn't stop so he grabbed her arm, trying to slow her. Hermione jerked at his touch, finally spinning to face him.

"What do you want, Ronald?" her scorching tone shocked Ron, making him release his hold.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you."

"Why would you want to talk to me, now you've got _Harry Potter_ again?"

Ron flushed, his ears and face turning horribly red. "It's not like that! I just wanted t-to apologize to him, and we got to talking again after such a long time - I didn't mean to ignore you or anything! I just got distracted."

Hermione looked at him balefully, her eyes full of frustration, "In case you haven't noticed Ron, it's him who should be apologizing to us!"

"But he did-" Ron sputtered.

She interrupted, "Can't you see it? The mood swings, irrationality, reclusiveness, sneaking off at all times, the general _creepiness_… Ron, Harry's going Dark!"

In the time that she was talking, a small crowd had gathered, unnoticed by either. They listened to the juicy gossip intently.

"Uh, Hermione, I think that's going a bit overboard-"

"No it's not!" she said shrilly, "It all fits! He has issues: he got mad at us just for not telling him we're dating! I can barely believe it myself."

"I told you, he already said he was sorry-"

"Ron, you're _defending_ him! Doesn't it matter to you that he's growing to be evil?!" She stared at him challengingly.

Ron gaped at her in unadulterated shock.

How could she be doing this? Did she realize that by asking this she was forcing him to pick between Harry and her?

One look at her expectant expression told him she did, and she anticipated him being on her side. Ron's jaw clenched and his fists tightened.

Hermione was his girlfriend and he liked her a lot, if not _loved_ her. But here she was compelling him to choose her and his best friend! Harry, who had been the first person to offer him a hand of friendship before even glancing at his brothers. Harry, who had always been there to calm him when he got into a rage. Harry, who had accepted his comradeship back twice when Ron thought he'd lost it forever.

And she was making him choose.

"No," he ground out.

"What?" she asked, as if she couldn't be sure she heard him correctly.

"No," Ron said again, "I don't care if Harry's Dark or going there. I'm his friend and I'll stick with him!" There was defiance in his voice now, daring her to try coercing him away from his choice. How could she do this to him, the both of them?! Harry was her friend too. They'd just had a fight, was all.

Ron didn't see the hand coming his way until it cracked against his cheek, sending him reeling. The voices clamored in his head to eradicate the disturbance, but he shook them away.

"I can't believe you! He's going to drag you down, Ron... Then where will you be?" Hermione swung her bag over her shoulder. "Consider this… thing of ours over!"

She spun away, only now noticing their audience. Her eyes widened and got suspiciously watery for a moment, but she wiped them with her sleeve then shoved her way through the crowd.

Ron pressed a hand to his cheek, trying to relieve the stinging and hide his own tears. It wasn't working.

She had forced him to choose.

So he'd made the decision.

¤

The gossip mill at Hogwarts was the fastest in the world. By lunchtime everyone in the castle knew of Ron and Hermione's confrontation over Harry, and their subsequent breakup.

Ron was quiet through the entire day, sitting next to Harry without conversing at all. Harry let it be. If what the gossips said were true, Ron had defended him against some rare irrationality on Hermione's part.

It was after a lunch full of pointing and whispering that Ron finally deadlocked his gaze onto Harry's.

"I want to know what's going on. I want to know where you went last night," said Ron, uncharacteristically firm.

Harry felt his throat go dry and his palms start to sweat.

"I want to know why I had to say those things to her!" Ron stared at him, face determined. It was all Harry could do to nod, still feeling frozen from shock.

"A-After."

Ron acquiesced, looking down at his macaroni.

How was Harry going to explain this?

¤

Harry knew things had to be said. After the rumors of what Ron had said to Hermione, he wasn't sure _what_ to say. What could he say? The exact wording had been lost amongst the chitchat, but Ron not caring if he was going Dark? Harry found that hard to swallow. Ron had always been the most narrow-minded of their group, immediately categorizing people into Light and Dark, and Dark as Evil personified. How was he supposed to believe such a sudden turnaround?

Then again, Ron had been acting strange recently, much like himself. He hadn't been as…uppity? Loud? Irrational? None of those words quite seemed to fit. He'd changed from the Ron Harry'd known last year though. He was calmer, at least.

Then it all came back to what Harry was going to tell him.

He didn't think, "I'm an immortal vampire who went back in time, met my sire and fell in love with Tom Riddle who is now Voldemort. Oh, and I'm working with him," would go over well.

Still, keeping secrets from Ron would be hard. He truly wanted to trust his friend. He just didn't think the other boy would understand. Harry knew that from anyone else's point of view, he probably came across as an evil traitor.

Maybe Harry would tell him of his time travel, possibly a friendship with Tom?

A rejection from Ron would hurt dreadfully. After him, what was keeping Harry here? Hermione had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Even the pang of regret that filled him couldn't spur him to try mending bridges with her now.

As for Dumbledore, Harry couldn't help but feel increasingly wary of the old man. He hadn't tried to approach Harry since the last literal blow-up of his office, but he felt the man watching him constantly. Harry had the unpleasant feeling he was planning something.

Even with all this intrigue, Hogwarts was still his home. She had kept him safe as she possibly could and done her best to make him happy. It would be with much anguish that he would leave her.

Once again, Harry's decisions all rode on someone else. After this, there would be no turning back.

¤

They skipped out on Potions, but Harry was sure he wouldn't get more than a slap on the wrist from Slughorn. He was the _Chosen One_ after all, and the ugly man's new favorite. Ron was 'the sidekick' whom would probably also get off scot-free.

Harry was silent as he led the way to the Room of Requirement, where he knew they wouldn't be interrupted. Ron followed, his gangly frame easily keeping up with Harry's strides.

His heart started to flutter when they came to the wall. There would be no lies this time, just…admissions.

A door appeared and Harry opened it, revealing a cozy sitting room. Ron at once fell into a squishy armchair, watching him expectantly. Harry sat down in a more ginger fashion, fidgeting nervously. He didn't know here to begin.

"I-I'm sorry you had to go through that, Ron," he started weakly, but Ron dismissed the apology with a jerk of his head.

"Don't say that. It wasn't your fault! Hermione's just being…difficult," he muttered. Awkward silence hung for a moment.

"So, are you going to tell me anything, or are we just going to sit here?" Ron asked finally.

Harry felt glad he'd left Letalis back in the dorm. She probably wouldn't have taken well to his tone.

"I'll tell you, just…you've got to promise not to butt in until I'm finished. Don't say _anything_." Harry knew that if he was interrupted at any point, he probably couldn't bring himself to start again.

As if realizing just how grave this matter was, Ron nodded, his blue eyes hard.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to mind. He didn't know where to start…

But before he realized it, his mouth was working of its own accord.

"When I was ten, I met a man in the park on Magnolia Crescent. He told me his name was Noir. It…was much later that he told me he was a vampire…" and so his tale spun, the words pouring out liberally. Harry had never felt quite so free. He'd never told anyone, not even Tom of the details of his childhood. The account moved on to his turning, which seemed so long ago. Then somehow he moved on to his journey through time, the word melded together until he wasn't even aware that he was telling Ron _everything_.

Ron, for his part, only sat gaping. He didn't speak, his expression changed often, but Harry didn't notice. His words tumbled over one another as he got up and paced. Harry didn't become aware of every detail he spilled, from his experience in seeing Tom's scarred skin in the bathroom, to the first time he's realized his love for the future enemy. Luckily, some unconscious part of his mind thought it best not to go into graphic detail of he and Tom's relationship. It felt good, telling the truth to someone who wasn't already a part of it.

By the time he came to the Hogsmeade episode he was back on the couch, clawed fingers gouging the cushions and causing the stuffing to come out.

"And last night, I went to him and he accepted me back, Ron. He still loves me…" Harry seemed to sag in on himself, "I…I don't know what side I'm on anymore…"

Finally, Harry snapped out of whatever daze had been holding him. He hurriedly slapped a hand to his mouth.

'Oh, _FUCK_.'

¤

Ron sat, stunned at Harry's forthright honesty. The other boy had blown him away. When he'd asked, Ron had never expected _this_…

How could he? All the information was rushing at him.

Harry was a gay, immortal, time traveling, Dark vampire who was in love with the Dark Lord.

Ron felt the effects of unfounded rage and nausea at the situation rise within him. Of all people…_Voldemort?_

But he quickly pushed it down, trying to get a grip on the circumstances. Yes, he was angry at Harry; but, he realized with a start, it was for not telling him sooner. His mind was spinning with all the implications and calculations, keeping the voices silent as they too worked at the problem.

Ron peered at Harry. The other male was huddling on the couch as if trying to disappear. He started in awareness of Harry's violently shaking frame.

It took him several moments to realize it was in fear of Ron's continued silence.

"Harry…" he paused. Ron wasn't much for talking. He couldn't think of an eloquent way of putting his feelings in words.

At last Harry glanced up from his lap. His eyes flickered from green to gold, showing just how distressed he was. Ron gasped in surprise when he saw them, but quickly tried to regain his composure.

"Really, V-Voldemort?" he forced himself to say the name, "I would have imagined you settling with someone less…scaly."

Harry let out a choked half-laugh, half-sob as Ron broke the tension with a joke. This continued crying apparently wasn't doing much for his masculinity.

Ron heaved himself out of his chair, ignoring the ache from being still so long. He sat on the couch next to Harry as close as he dared, wary despite himself.

"You know, I told Hermione that I didn't care if you were going Dark."

Harry jerked up, stunned.

"I told her I'd stick with you no matter what, and she hit me for it," he rubbed his cheek in remembrance before turning to Harry, "I guess I do care but…I'll stay on your side even if you are with…Voldemort." Ron couldn't stop his shudder at both the thought and the name. He was taken aback for a moment when Harry suddenly threw his arms around his shoulders. After a moment, Ron patted his back awkwardly.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry pulled away, sensing his discomfort. "So you're really okay with it all? I mean…everything?"

Ron smiled, "As long as you don't put any moves on _me_, I'll be fine, Harry."

They shared an easy laugh for the first time in a long while.

¤

Harry sighed in relief and joy. Ron had accepted him, so that was one problem over with…

He was completely unaware of the owl winging its way across the countryside toward him.

¤

_Harry, _

_I can't think of the right way to say this. Perhaps there is no right way…but I have to tell you, because I owe it to you, cub. I know you will hate me for this, because it is against Dumbledore's cause._

_I'm leaving the Light. For many years what the Headmaster is doing has sickened me. When I heard of Lily and James' deaths, I rejected my place as beta in Fenrir Grayback's werewolf pack to be with you, but Dumbledore kept me away. I realized it would be too dangerous for me to raise you, but the man would not even let me visit you. This is one thing among many of his atrocities, but I won't bother to list them, for I know you will not read them. _

_Moony has been tearing at me for years, and each transformation grows worse, even with the Wolfsbane. He wants to be with his pack, and so do I. By joining Fenrir, and You-Know-Who's side, I'm fighting for change. You-Know-Who has promised equal rights to Dark creatures, including werewolves when he takes over the Ministry. I cannot help but bring myself to believe him. Once again, I'm sorry. I never meant to betray you._

_Much Love,_

_Uncle Moony _

* * *

A/N: Say thanks once again to EmpyrealFantasy! She's the only reason this is already out.

Now for some shameless advertising: Check out my profile! I've got a bunch of neat new stuff, including the Poem of the Ancients and NEB and UCG art on my dA, which you can find under the homepage button. Please review!


	6. Sincerity

_"A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere."  
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

_¤_

Ron stared uneasily when Letalis' head bobbed down from the curtain hanger on Harry's bed to examine him.

Harry watched in amusement as Ron eyed the snake, daring her to come any nearer. Unfortunately for him, Letalis was never one to back down from a dare.

She crawled right into his lap.

Ron became stiff as he tried to hide his fear without further embarrassing himself. Letalis' impatient hissing only made him more anxious.

"She just wants you to scratch her head, Ron," said Harry, in a struggle to suppress the laughing fit the threatened to escape.

When leaving the Room of Requirement they'd been aghast to realize that not only was Potions over, Transfiguration was almost half-way through.

"_Bloody hell! McGonagall will kill us if we walked in there now!" _

In the end they decided it would be best just to go back to the dorm so as not to get caught wandering the hallways. It was then that Harry remembered leaving the snake to sleep in the room. He'd smirked while offering to introduce her to Ron…

Ron shot him a 'you're-pure-evil-and-I'll-never-forgive-you' look. Harry merely grinned, amused at his friend's reactions.

The red-head tentatively touched the top of her scaly skull. He jerked at her hiss of delight, mistaking it for irritation.

"She's promised not to bite you, you know," Harry couldn't keep the grin out of his voice.

"But Harry, what if it-_she _gets angry and decides to do it anyway? You said she could get big enough to eat me!"

Ron was turning red with embarrassment and nervousness, trying not to fidget and disturb the deadly creature coiled over his legs. Harry found it almost too funny.

He was saved from an inevitable laugh attack by a sharp rapping on the window. Getting up and still grinning, he made his way over the window to let a tawny owl in. In its claws was a battered envelope. Harry took and opened it. A moment later, the smiled plummeted from his face.

¤

It took one minute to realize something was wrong with Harry, his attention being so wrapped up in the snake on his lap.

It took another second for him to see the incomprehensible emotion on the other's face.

Another moment to push the snake away, unheeding of its protests and pluck the letter from Harry's limp hands.

Ron scanned the letter, his eyes widening as he reached the end.

"Well, uh…guess that works out for you, doesn't it?"

He watched Harry rub his forehead tiredly. "Not really, Ron."

Ron frowned, "Why wouldn't it? Lupin just wrote to tell you that he was joining the Dark. -That's good isn't it? You won't have to worry about him any more." Even Ron could see _that_.

Harry shook his head, absently stroking Letalis.

"Yes, he said he's going Dark, but…I don't even know if _I_ am! Add that to the fact that he doesn't know about me… he's betrayed me, even if he hasn't really," he paused as if to gather his thoughts, "He chose another side over staying with me, even if it's paining him," Harry grimaced. Ron noted that he was sticking to his policy of not withholding anything from him, for which Ron was glad. Still, that didn't make things any easier to puzzle out.

Harry would need friends outside of Ron to assure him that what he was doing was right. And even though Ron didn't agree with everything that Harry was becoming, he wanted to do his best to ease his friend's way.

Ron would soon get used to being the voice of reason in this turbulent world, strange to him though this unlikely role may be. The first issue that needed to be picked apart was Harry's allegiances.

"How do you _not_ know if you're Dark?"

"What?" the question stunned the vampire.

"Harry, you're a bloody vampire, one of the darkest creatures in the world! You're in a tryst with a Dark Lord! You got Sorted into Slytherin. You've got a second _illegal_ wand. You are a Parselmouth with a snake you can talk to. You admitted to performing several Dark spells. You just convinced a _Gryffindor_ to side with you! I don't think there's a question if you're Dark or not!" finished Ron. His ears burned as he suddenly realized that he'd been yelling. It was very lucky no one was around.

"And Remus…he said he's getting sick of Dumbledore, just like you. I dunno what he meant by Moony tearing at him, but I guess he's been fighting his werewolf just to stay with you. He also said that V-Voldemort was offering werewolves equal rights. That's a hell of a lot better than what he'd get staying with the Light," he surmised. As off-track as he'd gotten, Harry understood the point he was trying to get across.

Harry's eyes started to get a little light back in them and Ron congratulated himself on a job well done.

"I guess…I'll talk to him and see what happens. Thanks again, Ron."

¤

The scent that lingered on the envelope was strange and powerful, yet in some way familiar. Remus had to look at who the return address was from before it clicked.

Of course! How could he have forgotten!?

Remus had been too immersed in his own problems to remember the changes in Harry's scent and the Dark taint it had taken on. He simply couldn't understand _why_ he'd forgotten such an important seeming detail. It made his head spin to think of the implications.

He'd been too lost, waiting for Harry's angry, disgusted reply before he set out for Fenrir's pack. He dearly hoped that when he was welcomed into the fold all of this uneasiness would be washed away. He knew it was a vain hope. He might one day have to go up against Harry. Oh, how he dreaded it.

Remus tore the letter open.

_Moony,_

_I'm coming to where you are._

_Now._

_Harry_

Remus blinked, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean. At that moment the tracking charm on the letter activated. He gasped, flinging it away in surprise. He hadn't sensed the spell.

Newly embraced instincts coursed through him as a familiar scent reached him. Every one of them told him to run.

He shook himself, trying to be rid of it. He knew that it was the dark power that set off his senses, causing the instinctual fear that any creature would feel when confronted with a being more powerful than them. The only notable exception to the rule were humans.

Before him stood the short, cloaked figure of a smiling Harry Potter.

Remus stared at the young man, willing himself to believe this was real, that Harry had appeared out of thin air…and _smiled_ at him.

After his initial fear of the suffocating smell was gone, Remus became aware of his wolf crying out.

_Pack…Powerful pack. Submit. Protect. Love. _Moony's impulses reached him, his acceptance of his darker side putting him in connection. Remus didn't realize he was moving until he was already hugging the boy.

He quickly pulled away in surprise. Harry however, didn't stop him from either action. He simply stared, smiling a little. Despite that, Remus could see the spark of accusation in those verdant eyes.

He cringed, his heart sinking as Harry was silent. 'Of course. He hates me now.'

Straight to the point then.

"Harry, I'm sorry…for betraying you," this was what he wanted to say right? He wanted to apologize to Harry's face and wait for the outrage that would follow. He'd been such a coward, thinking that such a simple letter would be the end of it. No more words would come to him, looking at the young boy before him.

Then Harry's eyes softened, taking him completely by surprise. The boy looked down at his feet guiltily.

"It hurts but…I don't really blame you, Remus. I can't when I've done the same."

It took a moment, but Remus reeled back in shock and comprehension when gold eyes met his. He gaped in a bit of awe when the other bared his teeth, exposing gleaming fangs.

"…Explain!"

¤

Harry took in Remus' appearance with slight awe. The man had changed much since he last saw him, almost more than Harry himself! Though his clothes were still patchy, he no longer looked worn and frayed about the edges. In fact, he looked vibrant and strong. The gray he remembered being in the werewolf's hair had receded, getting back some brown luster. His face had gained a feral curl, as if always an inch away from a howl of delight or snarl of rage.

Remus' letter had talked about his werewolf side as a separate entity, but it seemed to Harry as if they'd started to merge, making the man appear more beastly and muscled. But wolves were quick to anger, and Harry had to keep this in mind.

He'd debated hard with himself about telling Remus of his and Tom's relationship, but decided that, like Ron, it would be best to give him the full truth. He wanted to be close to the man. Remus had even referred to him as Cub in the letter. The fact that he'd even bothered to write showed Harry that he cared what became of him.

Harry made Remus take the same promise as Ron: not to speak until Harry finished. It was a harder story to tell now than the first time when his emotions had been so out of control. He almost wanted to stop on certain parts (being turned, yelling at his friends, Tom, his "death", his meetings with Voldemort), but the werewolf's piercing amber gaze kept him going.

The only time he paused was when Remus drew his wand to silently conjure a tray of steaming tea and biscuits, along with a bottle of brandy. Harry recognized it as a great show of magic from a man who was normally so withdrawn.

The man sat down across from him, swirling the brandy glass in such a way that Harry thought it must have been habit. Remus sighed.

"Harry…let me say that I understand your reasoning behind many of the things you've done. I'm glad you're finally finding happiness after…Sirius," his eyes darkened and he took a sip of brandy, setting the glass down with a clink.

Of course, Harry should have thought of this. Remus was more experienced, older and wiser than he. He must have faced betrayal and conspiracy many times in his harsh life. He was taking this even more calmly than Ron, understanding. Someone could understand.

"I also have something to tell you." Harry stared at him. It had not been five minutes and they were already moving to a new topic… This meeting was going far from expected. Remus was waiting; he nodded to continue.

"You see, at some point in every werewolf's life, after they've hit maturity, they choose a mate," at Harry's curious look he elaborated, "Someone they…love, and want to spend the rest of their life with," he ran a hand through his hair and down his face in frustrated gesture.

"Mine was Sirius. I loved him more than anything and chose him in the end. He chose me back. His imprisonment…and his death tore me up like nothing I'd ever known before," Remus stopped, his eyes shining with sorrow. His white knuckles told Harry that if he hadn't put the wineglass down, brandy and glass pieces might be all over the floor. Still he continued, "Fenrir Greyback has been urging me to join his pack for many years, since I hit maturity. I refused, first to stay with Sirius and the other Marauders, then to stay with you…but he told me something recently, that resulted in my letter."

Harry waited for some explanation, but none came. Remus and Sirius together didn't shock him much. He'd always suspected something, with how affectionate the two were. But he couldn't imagine how Remus had handled his death. He had known Sirius much longer than Harry, and he loved him just as much, if not more than Harry loved his godfather.

"What did he say?" Harry asked, anxious at Remus' continued silence.

"He told me that I was his chosen mate; that it was the reason he bit me as a child," he replied. It startled Harry that his voice he held no inflection. He was trying to purposely hide it from the younger man.

Harry couldn't help but gape. Fenrir's mate? How did that happen? Remus didn't seem too happy about it.

"Do, er…do you feel the same way?"

Remus smirked a little, shocking Harry, as it was an expression he'd never before seen on his face.

"But that's just the thing, I'm not sure."

Ah, there was the confusion, an emotion that Harry was far too familiar with. Remus didn't know how he felt…

"And yet you still went over to the Dark…" Remus' expression lightened slightly at Harry's almost blithe tone.

"But you 'can't blame me,' can you, Harry?" his eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile, the first one Harry had seen from him all night. Harry didn't reply, not being able to think of more to say.

They sat in silence for several minutes, simply staring at each other and contemplating.

Several chimes suddenly rang through the room, making them both jump. It was the chime of a clock, signaling it was currently four in the morning.

"It's very late," Remus stood, "You should probably get back before you're missed."

Harry nodded, also standing up. Just as he was wondering how to say goodbye, Remus walked up to him and gave a second, fierce hug. It told him more than words can ever say.

"Harry, I know I can never replace your parents or Sirius, but I hope that someday…you might at least see me as an honorary godfather?" his voice was a little hesitant as it reached Harry's ears, and Remus pulled away.

Harry felt a rush of gratitude and happiness at those words. He grinned for the first time.

"Of course, Moony."

¤

Nagini did not like her master's new pet. No, not at all.

The thing positively _reeked_ of power, taking away all of her master's precious attention and nearly guaranteeing it stayed away.

Before, she was always the object of his affections; he barely noticed her presence any longer. Instead, his mind was always on that dratted boy, or he was flipping through that infernal journal.

Not to mention that white snake that dared to invade her territory!

Nagini hissed angrily as Master once again ignored her in favor of reading the oh-so-fascinating journal the boy had brought him.

They would pay, one way or another.

¤

A/N: No real excuse, writer's block, blah blah blah, school started again, biology and honors English 10, blah blah blah…

Ooh look, a hint at my age:D

Anyway, sorry to those disappointed in this chapter. The action is coming soon. Here's a few hints to think on:

-Coin

-Dementor's Blood

-Veritaserum

Please review!


	7. Jealousy and Self Love

Almost the entire scene with Ginny and Harry was written by **EmpyrealFantasy** for me, because she wanted me to put the chapter out. Her characterization **is not my fault**! XD

Warning for Ginny bashing.

_In jealousy there is more self-love than love. _

_François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1665_

¤

The pages were faded yellow with age, crumbling even under the spells Aspen had placed on them. Voldemort handled each one delicately, staring at it in wonder.

This was Salazar Slytherin's journal, written by the hand of a man he had revered since the moment Voldemort knew who he was; a man who was steadily crushing his years built-up beliefs with each page turned.

He could hardly believe this was real, any of it!

And yet it was ridiculously easy to see how Slytherin's views on muggles and Mudbloods could have been distorted over time with the passing of his tale through generations.

¤

_They hate me now. Though they claim they do not, I can see it in their eyes. Trust has passed; they fear my power and what I am doing in the name of our race._

_How many years has it been, since we first met? Thirty years ago we built this school, still young and naïve, but with a dream. _

_I have been accused of tearing that dream apart and Godric is adamant that I leave…_

_So I will go. _

_Let their children watch the wizarding world crumble and die around their ears._

_I have tried, and I swear…it is not my fault._

¤

It had been two long, grueling days since Harry last slept, but he still he denied himself. He wanted to see Tom again… it seemed he'd been so long without him.

Harry snorted, 'Lovesick teenager, much?' He did sound a _little_ sappy, he admitted. Still, it didn't change the fact that he wanted to go see Tom, and he was going to.

He couldn't have imagined things could fall together this well. For all his apprehensions and misgivings, his life seemed to be falling together into place in ways he had never imagined. Tom had accepted him for who he was. Ron was standing by his side. Remus had actually meant to go Dark before he had even brought the situation to him! It left a warm feeling permeating his soul... but he couldn't help but wonder when it would all go wrong.°

He was, after all, Harry Potter. No matter he was also Aspen Noir, no matter any new circumstances in his life... he had a track record of his life spiraling out of control every time be became content.°

Harry released a breathy sigh and climbed out of bed to greet the night. The moon fell in silver shadow across the room; Harry saw Ron shift around but make no further moves, though Harry knew he was awake.

It would be yet another late night. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he desperately wanted to see him… Harry shut his eyes and disappeared.

His form coalesced in the deep shadows of a reasonably decorated room, its dark colors adding an aura of mystery to the picture before him. As Harry opened his eyes he felt his jaw drop an inch or two. Tom was sitting in a high-backed leather chair, surrounded by papers and books that looked as though they might topple on him if not for the charms holding them up. The man was bent over a messy piece of parchment and scrutinizing it closely as though trying to decipher the handwriting. He hadn't noticed Harry yet, and Harry took the best gazing opportunity he'd had so far.

Tom's paper-white skin nearly glowed under the soft light of torches and a few lamps scattered about the room. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his black silk robes, exposing long, bony arms and hands that had one too many joints on each finger. His arms and what Harry could see of his body and head were totally hairless and devoid of any markings. Where Tom's head bent he could see the joints of spine creating unambiguous bumps in his neck. The man was tall and gaunt beyond measure… He could be the stuff of any child's nightmares.

As this thought came to him, Harry crooked his head. And what did _he_ think? He knew he loved this man beyond all measure - the soul and memories that lurked beneath the surface were all he needed.

But could he be physically attracted to someone who most would think utterly repulsive?

Somehow, Harry couldn't bring himself to find the other's looks disgusting, as many might. If he loved what was inside, did it matter what was on the outside? Sure, looks counted for something, but to Harry, Tom didn't seem monstrous.

_Monster…_

He wondered what Tom thought of himself now. He couldn't count the number of nights he spent awake in the deep dark, reassuring a crying Tom that he didn't think he was a monster despite the scars the spelled otherwise. Then the other would calm and fall into sleep, awaking with no remembrance of showing a weakness he was sure to loathe. Harry never mentioned it.

_Monster…_

There were other meanings to the word too; ones he preferred not to think about.

Because Tom had _earned_ his title as the most dangerous Dark Lord in a century. He'd done more terrible things than Harry wanted or cared to imagine. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the thoughts. This was, after all, why he'd given Tom the diary of Salazar. He desperately hoped to changed his mind about this war.

Harry was under no illusions of Tom's mental state. The years had taken a toll beyond belief on him. Harry could see that he was truly Voldemort.

But he was also Harry's Tom, and that was good enough for him.

Harry started to awareness as Tom sighed in exasperation, leaning back tiredly. He moved forward slightly, instinctively seeking to give the other comfort-

When the other twisted hastily, wand in hand.

"_Avada-!_"

¤

Voldemort felt agitated. He'd taken a break from the journal, finding the systematic tearing down of his ingrained belief system a bit too much to handle.

An hour ago he'd called one of his regular Death Eater meetings. It was nothing extraordinary, just spies and converters handing in reports on their progress. Many were deteriorating in their work, but he found himself being lenient with the Cruciatus tonight - he was simply too distracted to care much about their continued failures.

Ruby eyes skimmed over endless sheets of parchment, barely taking in the words. Voldemort shifted, vaguely wondering what had left him in such a dull, emotionless state. He knew anger could wash it away, fury conquered all when he was like this, drifting…but somehow he couldn't even call that up. He sighed and fidgeted more. Would the paperwork never _end_?!

His mind wandered back to the journal. He just _knew _that Aspen had given it to him in an effort to change his views. When Voldemort thought about it, he knew that Aspen would never be able to go through with his plan of killing off Mudbloods and muggles. Although they had not talked of such consequential things, he knew the man had far too soft a heart for killing…

Voldemort realized that he'd read the same scribbled paragraph several times, not taking in any information. He hissed, disgusted at his distraction. It was that journal's fault! The book sat at the edge of the desk just within his reach, taunting him with more shattering truths.

The thought of it being a fake had crossed his mind only once. For one thing, it was written in the language of the snakes, something only one of Slytherin's bloodline could read or write; he'd come across similar characters in the Chamber of Secrets a long time ago. For another, Aspen would not have had time to craft such a detailed account. Besides that, Voldemort knew he wouldn't do such a thing. Aspen was too open, too honest…too Light to lie to him.

A sudden wistful longing swept through his chest. It had only been two nights, but he missed Aspen's presence. Voldemort wanted to touch him, feel the warmth of his skin, know that Aspen was really here, existing - not another figment of his growing madness.

Madness tormented him, sending his emotions careening up and down faster than the quickest broom. In the worst times it seemed as though he was being watched, surrounded by the many victims of his triumphs. His fury heightened - he killed, maimed, and tortured his enemies with glee. Then madness would seep away for a while, hidden but never gone, leaving him calm. Things then repeated themselves again, completely beyond his control….

But then Aspen came back and things were better. Voldemort hadn't felt an inkling of that maniacal rage in days and neither was there the dull listlessness that had plagued him intermittently. Here was his comforting darkness, wrapped in the package of a young vampire that seemed so set on loving him.

He almost laughed at the irony of it all. The world's supposed savior in love with its proclaimed monster! Voldemort even questioned to himself if he deserved to be loved, knowing what an atrocity he must be in the eyes of others…

Then he remembered those lips on his own, recalled hands in the dark and told himself he didn't care. Harry was supposed to be saving the world. Voldemort glanced at the journal. He supposed in a way, he was…

Distracted as he was, Voldemort took no notice in the change of his surroundings.

A tiny sound and shift in the air was all it took for Voldemort to go from detached to high alert. He whirled around to face the intruder, wand pointed and an "_Avada_-" halfway off his tongue before he could stop it.

Harry let out a shocked whimper and stepped back. Instantly Voldemort lowered his wand, his chest seizing with realization of what he'd almost done.

"S-sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to surprise you…" Voldemort set his wand next to a stack of parchment, rubbing a crease in his brow.

"Aspen, I almost _killed_ you," hard as he tried, he couldn't stop a strained note from entering his voice. Harry instantly grew concerned, moving forward to lay a comforting hand on his arm. Voldemort felt the heat of the touch through his robes and shivered.

"You know it wouldn't have killed me."

"That doesn't make it any better!" Voldemort spat, hours of frustration and longing wearing on him, "I could not bear to watch you die again, _ever_! I need you here…"

Warm fingers running across the cool skin of his temple made him sag back in his chair, ruby eyes closing. Tension drained away from his shoulders and jaw, leaving dull aches in places he hadn't realized he had been taut. He realized Harry was speaking, but the words escaped him for the moment. All that mattered was the soft skin brushing against him, the presence of the only person he could ever love…°

He pulled out of his musings just in time to catch Aspen's question as the young man stared him in the eyes.

"-play a game of self-doubt, not knowing which side I'm on! You say you want me to come to the Dark…be with you?" Harry seemed torn.

Voldemort was silent for a moment, stunned at Aspen's sudden insecurity, before his serpentine face relaxed he leaned over to wrap his arms around the young man's shoulders.

"It's a little late to be worrying about sides, Assspen," he put a caressing hiss to the name, "you are already intensely deep-rooted in the Dark," he paused, not quite sure if what he was going to say next would be accepted or not, "When _we_ annihilate the Ministry and its hidebound ways, we will lead the wizarding world together, as equals in the Dark." He waited for a moment to see if this proclamation in any way comforted him. It seemed to do the trick, for Aspen eventually sighed and slowly pulled away.

"I'm not much for world domination, but…if it's with you I suppose it'll be all right," the vampire smirked to show his sarcasm. Then his face fell, Aspen's golden eyes glazing over as he stared into nothing. "I still have people I care for on the Light side. They are my friends and I don't think I could ever go up against them…"

"Then get them to join you." The solution seemed exceedingly simple to the Dark Lord. "If they aren't loyal to you, then these 'friends' aren't worth the effort it would take to keep them alive."

Aspen gaped at him open-mouthed for several moments. Then he seemed to pull himself together and smiled, leaning into Voldemort's embrace.

"'Suppose that makes sense."

Voldemort smirked.

¤

Ginny loved it when he smiled. Even before she'd met him for the first time, Ginny had loved him. Like any other young witch, she'd been regaled with tales of Harry Potter's triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and while most of them were purely fictional, they'd still served to instill unwavering hero worship in her.

He was everything any girl could ever want. He was gallant and brave, rich and chivalrous. Even if he hadn't been impressive when she had first met him, she had been able to see the hero she had grown up reading about, the Prince she had always knew she deserved as a little girl.

And she would be his Princess.

Of course, Ginny didn't indulge in such childish notions now (so she told herself). No, she was more mature than that, _really!_

He had grown handsome, as well, as he'd gotten older. Soon she hadn't been the only girl with her eyes on him, and competition among the other girls was beginning to rise. But none of them could have him, he was _her _Prince. They had been destined since the day he had saved her from the Chamber... couldn't they see that?! He was _hers _and it was obvious. He just needed to realize it, that was all.

She'd tried getting him jealous by dating others, but he didn't even seem to notice. His obliviousness really was endearing, but there was only so much a girl could take. She was going to have to take this into her own hands if she wanted to get her Happily Ever After sooner rather than later. Harry would understand, of course. He had to know, as well, that they were meant to be.

Ginny knew Harry had great things ahead of him. She could see it now... Harry, posture regal, shoulder-length hair blowing in the wind and exposing his lightning bolt scar, standing on the battlefield after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's second defeat at his hands. And there she would be beside him, their hands clasped and looking toward the dawning of a new day. They would be married immediately, of course, and the Wizarding world would rejoice as she brought his children into the world - the children of their Savior. She could see this future as clearly as if it was happening, and her heart leapt in anticipation. She _had_ to have this. There was no doubt in her mind that she would.

Her fantasies might have continued had Ron not let out a loud whoop from the corner where he haunted with his chess set, his familiar voice calling her attention. And there, in the flesh, was her fantasy, smiling sheepishly as Ron no doubt gloated over his victory.

Ginny stood from her chair and quickly fixed her hair in the most aesthetic way she knew. This was it. The moment she had been preparing for since she was a child. With a stroke of inspiration she turned and made sure no one watched her before undoing a couple of the buttons on her school shirt and arranging herself to give herself the maximum cleavage possible. She already knew he wouldn't refuse her, but a little added incentive never hurt anyone.

Harry was standing now from his place across from Ron, waving off her brother's loud attempts to coerce him into another game, "No, Ron. I'll just get myself trounced again! I've got pride too, you know," Harry laughed, "Well, sometimes at least."

"Oh, c'mon mate! You may not be a challenge but at least you're better company than most of this lot! Besides, it's great on my self esteem to thrash you thoroughly!"

Harry gave a mock glare and his chin jutted out imperiously, "Sir, you have insulted my honor for the last time! Good day to you!"

Ron placed a hand over his heart and looked about to retort when he saw Ginny watching them with a raised eyebrow, a sheepish grin overcoming his features, "Oh, hey Ginny. What's up?"

Ginny ignored her brother and gave a coy smile to Harry, dipping her head and looking up at him through her lashes, "Harry, can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

Harry smiled at her - oh, that smile... so innocent and sweet. That hadn't changed since the day she met him - and nodded, "Sure, Ginny, what do you need?"

She paused and sighed internally, taking another step forward and fluttering her lashes, "Alone, please?"

She noticed Ron's narrowed eyes and knew she had to hurry; her brother was an idiot but he was also one of the single biggest influences on Harry. Her smile became strained as Harry tilted his head, "Well, alright..."

She grabbed him by the wrist with a sweet smile and yanked him towards the portrait hole, hurrying before Ron could open his overly large mouth. Ginny took a risk and shot him a look that promised pain if he interfered, and she was surprised by the pitying look she received in return.

What was that about?

Ginny shook her head and pushed her way out of the common room with Harry dragging along behind her, a confused look on his face, "Ginny? Where are we going?"

She looked back over her shoulder at him, her sweet look turning into what she hoped was a sultry, mysterious smile, "Just getting some privacy, Harry."

He blinked again in return. Ginny wasn't sure if she wanted to coo at his cuteness or smack him upside the head for stupidity. Both seemed favorable.

There was an empty classroom not far from the Fat Lady that Ginny had been using for months with her dates, and she steered Harry in that direction now. She refused to be interrupted by some jealous girl who thought they deserved Harry more. He was hers, by Merlin, and she would see to it that it was known to everyone in the school by morning.

There was no one in the room; Ginny was glad for this. It was a popular spot for more... surreptitious meetings and she had often had to threaten to hex anyone who was using the room in her stead.

She let Harry go reluctantly and resumed looking at the ground at his feet, twirling a bit of her long, fiery hair around her finger, "So, how are you, Harry?"

Harry cocked his head, "Umm, good... what do you need, Ginny?"

She let out a huffing breath and toed the ground, "Well, I was wondering Harry," she watched him through her lashes, "If you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend. Madame Puddifoot's has an autumn theme right now, and I thought it would be nice if we could..." she paused and took a step closer to him, "Spend some time together."

Harry's enchanting green eyes widened and she couldn't quite read the emotions he was showing, "Erm, well, I don't know if that's such a good idea..."

Her breath caught. He wasn't meant to be resistant. It was time to up the ante. She took another step forward and made sure her ample chest was in his sight, nibbling her lip and shifting her hips, "Whyever not, Harry? I would really... _love_ to go with you," she brought up and hand and ran her fingers over the collar of his shirt, "Wouldn't you?"

The wide-eyes look only took on a more panicked edge, and Ginny was exasperated by this point, "Look, Ginny, you're a sweet girl, really... but I just don't think it would be a good idea..."

She was moving out of exasperation and into anger now, "You're being silly, Harry. Of_ course_ it would be a good idea! If you're worried about my brothers..."

"I'm seeing someone!" Harry blurted out without a pause between the words, scooting away from her slow advancements, "So I'm really sorry, Ginny, but it just isn't..."

"Who?" she cut in with a deadly tone, brown eyes narrowed.

Harry was edging for the door now, "It isn't important! No one, really... but you see, I simply can't go on a date with you while I'm seeing someone else! That would be wrong, wouldn't it? So I should be going..."

"There's no way she's better than me!" Ginny interrupted again, "Whatever classless slut has screwed with your mind, Harry... she's _nothing_. She only wants you because you're famous! I can save you, Harry, and give you everything that low-class harlot couldn't-"

Harry stopped his retreat and snarled - yes, snarled at her. She stepped back as his magic danced around the room in an artificial wind, "Don't you dare insult him!"

Ginny felt like that world was frozen around her, her heartbeat loud in her ears, "_Him?_"

The magic swirling around the room vanished at once and Harry slapped his hands over his mouth. He was gone before Ginny could even register he had opened the door.

And Ginny stared at the open doorway in shock for long minutes after.

¤

It was a long time before Ginny moved from her spot. She walked numbly through the halls, her mind still trying to register what she's just heard.

_Him…Him…Him…_

She didn't even register giving the Fat Lady the password and climbing through the portrait hole. She rushed through the common room, ignoring the stares after her and rushing to her dormitory.

Her Prince…had been _angry_ with her!

_"I'm seeing someone!" _

Ginny had been trying for so long to get him to notice her, notice her assets that she'd continually tried to shove in is face. She'd even gone out with a bunch of other men in attempt to make him jealous - not that she hadn't enjoyed it - but still Harry had not noticed.

"_Don't you dare insult him!"_

Him…

Ginny's stomach clenched and bile threatened to spill as her mind finally latched onto the thought. Her Prince, in love with a _man_?! The thought was disgusting - sickening to even suggest. There was just no way Harry could be in love with a male. The image she'd held of the Boy-Who-Lived since she was a little girl threatened to corrode, but Ginny forced it away. There was no way this could happen. The other man must have corrupted Harry…

That was it! A love potion, a spell? If she could find and break it, Harry would see the light and be hers forever. She would have to hunt down this man and separate him from her beloved…

Then punish him for stealing Harry from her.

But how to do all of this? Ginny had no idea where to begin.

Ginny started violently as the dorm door swung in with no warning. She twisted to see who dared enter her domain with her in such a state.

Just as quickly, Ginny repressed a growing smirk and let large crocodile tears loose between her lashes, knowing they would make her appear distressed but not ruin her perfect appearance.

In the doorway stood the concerned face of the sixth year Lavender Brown, Hogwarts' most renowned gossip.

'This will work,' she thought as Lavender opened her mouth to ask what happened, and as a plan bloomed in her mind. Soon, very soon, she would have her Prince back.

¤

_O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;  
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on.  
William Shakespeare, Othello  
_

¤

A/N: Yes, so...uh, writer's block. As in "almost didn't continue the story" writer's block. All of you must give EmpyrealFantasy a big hug and a fat story review for whipping me into shape. :D

° Paragraph written by Empy with minimum editing.

Please review if you guys care about seeing another chapter! XP


	8. Fear and a Promise Kept

"A man who has been in danger,  
When he comes out of it forgets his fears,  
And sometimes he forgets his promises."  
**- Euripides **

¤

The right sleeve of his robe was ripped and covered in blood. Draco sneered and stumbled on, too caught up in his flight to think much on the pain emanating from the wound on shoulder where a slashing hex had caught him.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ His feet pounded down the floor, echoing off the high ceilings and stone walls. Draco's breath came in gasps and he knew his face was flushed and worn but he didn't care. He'd stopped caring for his appearance long ago, when staying alive started to matter more. When he thought on it, Draco couldn't help but be amazed that he'd lasted this long.

Stay close to the teachers. Be the last to bed and first to rise. Wards. Shields. Don't be noticed. Don't be _seen_.

_Run_ from the Death Eater children.

In this instance, the Slytherin children came to understand that he was their enemy. The Malfoy name was disgraced with his father's imprisonment, Draco had rejected the Dark Lord's mark, and all they had to cling onto was the support of the Black family - not that anyone knew that.

Finally though, Draco had been cornered. Theodore Nott was the one chasing him, having stayed out late simply to catch him off guard as he came into the Slytherin's separate rooms.

Draco hadn't been raised for this life. He'd grown up in the lap of luxury and was reminded of it everyday during childhood, sometimes rather painfully. His body simply wasn't used to running this long or far. He rounded a corner in the hall and stopped, determining that Nott was far enough behind for him to rest a moment. Draco's heart was pounding and his breath came in ragged gasps as he fished something out of his pocket. He hadn't forgotten even for a day to keep it with him, just in case. Potter had given him the unmarked coin at the beginning of the year, promising his protection for Draco and his mother. He'd been so gobsmacked that he'd forgotten to ask Potter how to use it.

Then Potter proceeded to ignore him for months, and though Draco had been hurt by the broken promise, his Slytherin side made him focus on his own survival.

Draco stared at the coin a moment before he squeezed it tightly. Nothing happened.

"Dammit, Potter, I need your help!" he whispered in frustration. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because suddenly the coin grew hot in his hand. Just as suddenly he heard thundering footsteps in the hallway and the mocking voice of his Slytherin peer.

"Come back, traitor! You can't run forever!"

Fear flooded him and Draco was off like a shot, racing through the halls and dodging behind statues when he occasionally came into Nott's line of sight. His legs ached and his sides were in agony, but still he ran on. With each new turn Nott gained on him and he knew this was a losing battle. But it was still either run or lose his life.

Draco turned another corner into a dimly lit hallway when he collided with something fleshy and hard. He hit with such impact that he fell, though the thing he ran into hardly swayed. Gasping, Draco struggled to his feet in an attempt to take a measure of his new enemy.

He gasped louder when he met the gaze of Harry Potter, face twisted with fury and some other emotion Draco couldn't read, but still made him tremble.

Potter was leaking darkness - it was a tangible feeling in the air.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

¤

Harry couldn't bring himself to be angry. No, he was _livid_.

He'd never pegged Ginny as someone who could so callously and rudely dismiss an attempt at a gentle brush-off. He'd tried to convince her otherwise - she was like a sister to him after all, however uneasy she made him with her constant near-groping - but she'd pushed and pushed until Harry snapped. He didn't know what it was, but something in what she'd said struck him, urging Harry to defend what was his.

His incisors and nails grew sharper with his anger, making Harry careful not to bite his lip or clench his fists as he ran aimlessly through the halls. He had to work this fury off somehow before bed, or Ron might worry he'd done something to his little sister.

Harry skidded to a stop in the middle of the corridor and sank against a wall. He didn't notice that all the portraits surrounding him had fled their frames, fearing the angry power that rolled off him in waves.

Harry had been clueless as to what was going on at first. His subconscious mind was far too occupied with matters of Tom to even guess at what Ginny wanted with him. That might be one reason why the surprise was so galling. Harry simply couldn't stand her insults to his love. Never mind that she hadn't had any idea who'd she'd been insulting, that she had the _nerve _to insult Tom had affected him at a visceral level.

He'd fled the room before he could do anything too drastic, but little did he realize that with one key word the damage had been done.

Harry was wrenched violently from his thoughts by a sudden shooting heat on his left hand. He jumped with a cry before the burning settled into warmth and looked down to see what was wrong. The Black ring was glamour-less and glowing dimly on his left middle finger. Harry stared in shock for a moment, trying to get his infuriated mind in order.

Shock and guilt flooded him one after the other as Harry recalled exactly why the ring was acting up. At the beginning of his year in the present he'd linked a small coin to his ring before giving it to Draco. That way he wouldn't have to bother with carrying around a matching coin that he might not notice if its alarm went off.

But after giving it to Draco, Harry had promptly ignored him. Even with the occasional stab of guilt, Harry just told himself he was too busy to talk to Draco… and besides, the other hadn't called him yet.

He smacked his forehead. Damn the Slytherin's pride and his own Gryffindor stupidity! He should have known that Malfoy would only call on him if things became hopeless. Such was the Malfoy way. Help was, apparently, only for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, not for such a proud and unsullied line such as theirs. Harry was darkly amused at his own sarcasm. He stood, wrenching from his self-pity and taking hold of a new anger, but this time at himself and whoever had driven Draco to be so desperate. Barely recalling the spell he'd used, Harry gripped the ring between two fingers and twisted, willing it to show him the way. His mind was pulled down, down to the third floor where a figure clutched shining gold desperately.

He was on the seventh floor. That was much, much too far away to reach him in time. Deciding to take a risk, Harry closed his eyes and Flicked to a nearby corridor. His body finished materializing just as a blond ran around the corner and straight into him. Harry winced as Draco fell to the floor, knowing it must have hurt to hit something solid so hard despite Harry being shorter.

Harry started to feel irritated as the other took a while scrambling upright. Selfishly, he wished this could have waited until later. He was feeling too shaken right now to deal with things well.

"What do you want?" his voice came out sharper than he'd meant it to, but it seemed to jolt the other back to reality. Malfoy held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed and still had the coin clasped in one. Harry was taken aback for a moment by the sound of Draco's heart as it reverberated loudly in his ears, faster than he'd ever heard before.

"Potter," he wheezed, getting over his shock at Harry coming so quickly, "H-help me!" He could see the desperation in Draco's eyes; it almost scared him to see the formerly proud boy outright begging. Before he could reply Harry heard the loud clapping of footsteps followed by a suspicious beam of dark-red light hurtling toward them. With a cry he shoved Draco out of the way, stepping to the side of the spell. A second later he spotted the person who sent the curse and threw himself at him, one hand going for his wand. The other tried the curse again but Harry blocked it with a strong shielding spell. He heard the incantation, _"Crucio,"_ and his suspicions were confirmed. Only a Slytherin would be throwing Unforgivables in Hogwarts.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ the invisible curse hit the attacker, sending his wand hurtling into Harry's hand. Harry ran forward as fast as he could, grabbing the other by their throat and shoving them against the wall with both wands digging into their chest. In the dim light Harry finally made out the face of Theodore Nott, a Slytherin and a fellow sixth year, his face scrunched in pain and rage.

Harry risked a quick glance at Malfoy. The other was fine, standing and staring at them in shock. He turned back to Nott.

"Well, well, if you aren't just the most repulsive little piece of eyeball slime I ever did see," Harry sneered. He saw Nott's hand inch up toward the wands and increased his pressure on the boy's throat. "Move and I'll curse you within an inch of your life!" he snarled. Nott paled and dropped the hand. Part of him marveled at how threatening he must seem for the Slytherin to even think of obeying him.

"Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. The Malfoys are under my protection. That means if any of you try to touch Draco, I'll slit your throat. Understand?" Nott nodded minutely, but his eyes held the glint of defiance. The Slytherins all thought Harry was incompetent in the ways of the wizarding world. Tom had taken it upon himself to teach him about them in the past, not wanting Aspen to have to learn them the hard way like he had.

Harry knew that if the Slytherins knew he was the Head of the Black family or connected to Voldemort they would do as he said. Unfortunately, that would mean Dumbledore finding out, and Harry couldn't have that. He sighed, "You're as stubborn as your grandfather," and without further ado bound and silenced him. The elder Nott had greatly annoyed Tom with his headstrong ways.

He let Nott slide to the floor, turning to Malfoy, who was still staring dumbly.

"Where's your wand?" Harry asked, taking note of his disarmed state. Draco pointed at Nott, who was struggling against his bonds and shouting silent obscenities. He sighed and turned, fishing through the male's pockets before he pulled out a hawthorn wand. He passed it to Draco, who took it with a calculating gaze. Harry shrugged off the inquiring eyes to stare at Nott.

'What am I going to do with him?' Certainly, Harry wouldn't kill him. Neither did he know any secrecy spells that would stop Nott from passing on what had happened. He didn't want the entire school knowing of his physical capabilities. Some people might start guessing; Hermione, for one. Harry simply didn't have the knowledge or experience to handle this situation. Sure, Tom did, but he-

Harry could have smacked himself. Of course! Tom would know what to do, and it would be easy enough to take Nott to him. Satisfied with his decision, he turned to Draco.

"What the bloody hell is going on with you, Potter?!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the outburst, too emotionally exhausted to respond in kind, "What do you mean, Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked frustrated and waved an arm at Nott, "That! That with the spells and the dodging and pinning him against the wall and the _threats_! That's what! What's the matter with you? I've never seen you act so…so…"

"Dark?" Harry supplied tiredly but with a dangerous look toward the blond, "Look, Draco, I promised to protect you and your mum. I'm just making good on that promise. Now, if you'll excuse me I'll take care of Nott. You should go to your dorm before it gets past curfew."

Draco's face grew angry, "I'm not a child, Potter, so stop treating me like one! I want answers."

Harry sighed, blowing a wisp of hair out of his eyes. Couldn't the world just leave him alone? All he wanted to do was sleep.

"Do you know where the Room of Requirement is?"

Draco nodded warily, "Yes."

"Good. Meet me there…tomorrow, and we'll talk," Harry waited for agreement, and when none came he spoke again, "It's either tomorrow or not at all."

Malfoy finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. At Harry's final wave off he walked away slowly, caution already creeping back into his steps as he headed back to Slytherin territory.

Harry looked down at Nott, who at length had stopped struggling and chose to stare at Harry as though he were a Dementor dancing the hula.

"All of this is way more trouble than it's worth," he muttered as he Flicked them both away.

¤

Voldemort took one look at Aspen and knew something was wrong.

Of course, that fact was easily given away by the struggling form Aspen was so easily dragging along and the magic he could sense roiling around uncontrolled beneath the man's skin. Voldemort stood smoothly, leaving ink to dry on the parchment he was attending. It seemed that if the younger had his way, Voldemort would never finish his paperwork.

He let Aspen come forward to his side of the room, where he promptly dropped his cumbersome bundle. When the figure finally righted itself, Voldemort couldn't have been more shocked to see Theodore Nott, a recently marked Death Eater. The boy appeared even more surprised to see him, paling and nearly fainting dead away. The silencing charm did nothing to hide the confusion and fear in his eyes as Nott glanced from Harry back to the Dark Lord.

Aspen dropped bonelessly in an armchair, "Tom, the children of your minions are pissing me off," he said, shooting an angry glance at Nott.

Voldemort raised a brow, nonplussed at the situation and why Aspen would bring the brat here instead of dealing with it himself. But then, he might have thought that Voldemort would be upset with him for possibly offing Nott. He smirked - how little he knew.

"And what, exactly, do you want to do about it?" Voldemort asked, but when he turned to face the other, all sense of amusement fell away. Aspen's nails were punching holes in his favorite chair. He immediately changed tact.

"What's the matter, Aspen?" he put a soothing tone in his voice, barely noticing Theodore fall over from where he'd managed to prop himself against a table. Aspen's gaze now burned holes in the floor.

"What's wrong?…Not only did I have to put up with the lecherous advances of my best mate's little sister, but then this jackass decided he was going to further mess up my night!" another glare at Nott, "Do something about it. Now," Aspen covered his face and sighed, "please," he added at last.

Voldemort froze at his first sentence, his mind rushing to figure out who Aspen meant. As far as he knew, Aspen's best friend at Hogwarts was Ron Weasley, who he'd been so ecstatic about making up with. That would mean that the girl Aspen had implied as coming on to him was the girl who'd gotten his diary, daughter of a blood traitor that she was.

"Ginerva Weassssley," he hissed, "what did she do to you?"

"Nothing, Tom, so you don't have to go killing her!" Aspen said, recognizing the look on Voldemort's face, "…_yet_. Er, I'm actually more upset about Nott."

The Dark Lord turned crimson eyes on Theodore, who'd given up struggling in favor of watching them both with uncomprehending horror. Voldemort didn't need Legillimency to see that this conversation was going far above Nott's head.

He knew that Aspen was trying to divert his attention from the girl, but Voldemort could help being infuriated and maybe even jealous - over a schoolgirl, nonetheless. Still, Voldemort fought down the sudden possessiveness that welled within him. He could deal with it later in an appropriate way.

"What did Nott do to irk you this badly?" he asked. Voldemort's fingers itched for his wand. He could just deal with the little pissant and be done with it. Aspen leaned his head against the cushioning on the chair.

"Do you remember the vow I made to Draco Malfoy? It should have been in the memories you viewed."

Voldemort paused, his mind flipping through the information he had received upon his barging into Aspen's mind the first night. Damn, there it was, vow and all.

"Naïve boy," Voldemort finally growled. There would be great pain to one who broke that kind of promise, possibly a loss of magic. Aspen nodded, causing the firelight to glint off his hair and silver earring.

"Yeah, I was. But today Nott attacked Draco, forcing me to keep it. It seems that the other Slytherins have been tormenting and trying to kill him as well, on your orders," Aspen's eyes flickered to gold in a show of emotion that Nott would not catch, "I figured that you ordering them to stop would be much more effective than the 'Golden Boy' trying to intimidate them."

He was asking for Voldemort to revoke the orders to kill Draco Malfoy. It took Voldemort but a moment to decide. The Malfoy boy was a spoiled brat with few skills. It was his father, not him that was a loss to the Dark Lord's cause. There was no point in continuing, especially with Aspen brought into matters.

Voldemort nodded, "Very well. I will take care of it."

Aspen reward him with a small smile, finally prying himself from the chair and striding forward to give Voldemort one searing, deep kiss. They pulled away when there was a crash. Nott had made his way over to the desk in search of a penknife, but lost his balance in sudden shock at the sudden spectacle, knocking the inkwell all over the stacks of parchment. Aspen sighed and pressed his face into Voldemort's chest as the Dark Lord's face contorted in rage.

"Thanks," he whispered before he disappeared.

Free of distraction, Voldemort turned on Nott. The boy didn't move, frozen in fear as he saw the terrible fury in the man's eyes. All his hard work, ruined!

With a wave, Voldemort dispelled the ink, leaving his precious paperwork blank. With another wave he dispelled the silencer that would keep him from hearing the boy's screams.

"Don't worry," Voldemort hissed as he raised his trusted yew wand, "I'm not going to kill you."

It was no consolation and wasn't intended to be. Voldemort was starting to remember there were much worse things than death, after all.

¤

A/N: Thank Empy again for smacking me around! At the request of one of my readers I had some sweetness in this chapter. XD More plot next chapter - some Draco and a lot of Ron developments, plus the Daily Prophet! Because we all know what's going to happen next. ;D Review and tell me what you think! I love questions.


	9. Anger

_Anger is one letter short of danger. Author Unknown_

¤

Ginny sighed as she performed the last charm to keep her hair shiny and perfectly in place.

Ginny was well aware of the rage her actions would produce. The last thing she needed was for Harry to see her right away... The Sorting hat would have considered her for Slytherin as she had grown older if only for her self preservation. So she planned to lay as low as possible as the consequences of her actions spread like wildfire. And when the world turned against her prince, Ginny would be there to pick up the pieces. He _would_ see how much better a normal life would be. She knew he would.

And so, quietly, Ginny slipped out from the dorm. She would have breakfast in the kitchens to avoid the first wave, and hope she could lie low enough to keep out of Harry's ire.

¤

Theodore Nott limped down the stairs to the dungeons, every step causing him to be less steady on his feet. He refused to show weakness in a public place, however, so he still walked straight with a blank expression, belying little of the excruciating pain from having been too long under the Cruciatus. He had been little more than target practice for his lord, who had actually begun rewriting the papers Theodore had managed to ruin as he held him under the curse.

The entrance to the common room was in sight now, and had Theodore been a weaker person he might have sobbed in relief; as it was he felt the vague urge to collapse just inside the door and let oblivion rescue him from the pain he was feeling. As he choked out the password and made his way over the threshold, he could no longer fight the need for his knees to buckle, sending him crashing to the floor.

He had long been underestimating Potter, it seemed. How long had the 'Golden Boy' managed to fool them? How long had he been working for the Dark Lord right under all their noses? Did any of the sycophantic fools on the light side have even an inkling as to their Savior's true nature? A chill ran heavily down Theodore's spine, and he was unable to say whether it was in fear or an after-effect of his torture session.

And then there was Voldemort… Theodore had seen the feral, possessive glint in the Dark Lord's eyes as the two had spoken; he had never seen his lord react in anything other than anger, and he hoped to never see it again. The mere idea of the darkest Dark Lord in centuries managing to _love_ was more frightening than anything Theodore could imagine. Because it did not make his lord weak. No... it made him _dangerous_.

Theodore heaved himself up onto his elbows, intent on pulling himself into his dorm room and downing half of his potions supply. He managed to get one knee under himself when he noticed movement down the hall from the boys' dorms. The pale visage immediately identified the person as the last one he wanted to see, and a spike of fear lanced through his heart.

Malfoy's strides were measured and more sure than Nott had seen in weeks from the blond. There was a confidence and arrogance to his demeanor that he had been missing; Theodore didn't blame him. If he had someone as obviously powerful as Potter on his side, he would feel rather smug as well. Nott scrambled back out of the path to the common room entrance, his fear of his year-mate escalating as cold grey eyes fell on him. Would he seek retribution for all that Nott had done to him in the last weeks? How would he take it?

Malfoy froze as he noticed Theodore, and the brunet felt all the muscles in his body tense in anticipation.

But Malfoy just stared at him, face blank but eyes flashing before spinning on his heel and storming from the common room in snapping robes that rivaled Snape's. Theodore let out a sigh of relief and once again attempted to make it to his room. Telling the other Slytherins of their lord's mandate could wait. Right now, Nott wanted nothing more than to let unconsciousness take him.

¤

Draco wasn't sure why, but he felt today would be a good day. Of course, the events of last night still haunted him. Potter had almost terrified him with his changes. His sudden ferocity, his attitude, and his _power _that any wizard worth his wand could sense surging from him…

It had scared Draco, and he would admit it. This was the person who protection he was under; and yet somehow he felt safer. Because he _was_ under the protection of the terrifying being from last night.

Then Draco spotted Nott and he froze as if rooted to the spot. His eyes widened as he took in the other boy's form as Nott tried to hide himself in behind a pillar. This was who he'd been so afraid of? Draco's enemy looked ragged and tired, as evidenced when he swayed where he crouched. On closer inspection, Draco saw the light tremors that wracked the boy's body - no clearer evidence of the Cruciatus curse.

Nott made no move to draw his wand and Draco caught the glint of fear in his eyes. The boy would not be trying to hurt him anytime soon. Draco whirled around, practically running from the scene. The thought of breakfast completely escaped his mind in favor of getting answers.

What the hell had Potter done to Nott? Everything was becoming so confusing. He'd get answers out of Potter, and today would be his best chance.

Draco would completely miss the delivery of his subscription to the Daily Prophet.

¤

Ron had lost track completely of where he was. He just knew that he had to get as far away from everyone as possible. He ran blindly, stumbling into statues and bits of armor, ignoring the paintings that called after him in concern, until finally he was in a blissfully empty hallway.

'_Kill them! Everyone! Do it first, before they kill y-!'_

'_Eradicate Potter. He made your sister cry, you know-'_

'_Stupid boy, to trust anyone. They'll backstab you the first chance-'_

'_KILLMURDERSLAUGHTERTHEMALL!_

But he couldn't take it anymore; Ron sank to his knees that cracked on the floor, clutching his head in agony as the screams filled his brain and the scars on his arm burned.

¤

Harry awoke to an unexplainably bad feeling, as if a cloud of despair hung over him. It was only a week before Halloween, and something bad _always_ happened on All Hallows Eve.

Harry grappled with the sheets for a moment before getting unsteadily to his feet. Though he'd gone to bed early last night, it wasn't enough to make up for the deep exhaustion weeks of scant slumber had left him in. This, Harry knew, was entirely his own fault.

Yawning, Harry scanned the room. Letalis was nowhere to be seen, and Ron's ajar curtains indicated his friend was not there. Neither were Neville, Seamus, or Dean in the room. He'd slept in.

'Bugger, that means I'm late for breakfast!' He also wouldn't have time to work out this morning.

Harry hurriedly threw on his robes. Missing breakfast was no big deal because he didn't need to eat, but he'd never gotten the chance to explain to Ron what had happened with Ginny. He didn't want his friend to get mad at him for treating his little sister so harshly, despite the fact that her actions had been so…he couldn't think of a word to describe it.

With a quick pace Harry managed to get down to the Great Hall in ten minutes and walked right in. This immediately turned out to be a bad idea, as every eye in the room turned toward him and the Hall's normal buzz of conversation grew louder. Wondering what was going on, Harry did his best to ignore them. He moved to take a seat on an empty stretch of bench at the Gryffindor table; everyone's eyes followed him as discussions grew louder. The moment he sat down, Neville appeared in from of him.

"I guess you don't know what's going on?" the plump boy questioned. Harry shook his head and smiled slightly, glad that whatever seemed to be afflicting the rest of the school didn't seem to be reaching Neville.

"I have absolutely no idea," Harry said truthfully. He wished Ron was at the table with him, but the other was nowhere to be seen. Neville blushed lightly in embarrassment and handed over what he recognized as today's copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Er, I figured if that was the case, you should read this before anyone asks you about it," Neville's gaze darted to the rest of the table, all of whom were staring at them.

"Uh, thanks, Neville," Harry said, unused to this sort of forethought from the boy. Then again, he hadn't had much contact with him since the Department of Mysteries incident. Perhaps he should make an effort to get to know him better. Neville nodded and walked away, back to his original seat.

Harry turned his attention to the paper, curious as to what was causing everyone to act stranger than usual. He unfolded it calmly, but felt his heart quite literally stop at the glaring headline.

**POTTER IS A POOF!**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_In one of the most shocking moments of this reporter's career, she was contacted by a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with one of the most explosive pieces of information on our Boy-Who-Lived to date. Our very own Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived is gay,_

_"She was so hurt," the anonymous source said of the poor, rejected girl, "She just sobbed into my shoulder for ages bemoaning whomever had taken away the love of her life... he was horrible to her!"_

_After his stormy breakup with muggleborn friend Hermione Granger, the reporter theorizes he found comfort where it was offered. (see page 8 for a reminder of the details on the shocking betrayal)_

_A source from within Potter's dormitory says that Potter has been absent often in the past weeks. Is there a secret lover out there? Has some lucky wizard caught his eye?_

_This reporter wonders who might have been the one to turn our beloved Savior to the other side of the pitch. Sources within Hogwarts claim he has a very public and volatile relationship with his schoolyard rival Draco Malfoy, son of imprisoned Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. "Oh, I can see it," the friend of the rejected girl said definitively, "It would take a Slytherin, after all, to corrupt the Boy-Who-Lived."_

_"Ya know" said a fellow Gryffindor student, "He always kind of struck me as a poof. He's always been smaller than the rest of his year, and even some of the years below him... and he's got kinda a femme look, don't you think?"_

_Our young savior has apparently been paying more attention to his looks as of late, as evidenced by his newly grown and tamed hair, along with the addition of an silver earring! Could this be related to his sudden discovery of his feminine side?_

_This reporter isn't sure of all that, but surely there is more to this story. Could this be another attention-seeking attempt? With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named quiet, is the Boy-Who-Lived attempting to pull the limelight back to him? This reporter will not give up until the sordid details have all been revealed and the truth is known._

_For the public's reactions to this shocking revelation, see page 6_

Harry felt as though the hands now clutching the paper were made of stone, the rest of his body made of lead. One hot breath rushed out of him, for he hadn't taken in air since beginning the article. This was a consequence of his big mouth! But… Harry growled. Ginny should have kept it secret. It was easy to see she'd gone crying and telling everything to at least one of her dorm mates, who then quickly passed it on to Skeeter. His first rational thought was to wonder why he hadn't let Tom go ahead and kill her.

His second was wondering how he was going to explain all this to Tom, especially the stuff with…_Malfoy_.

Harry looked up to meet the gazes of the Hall. Everyone was _still _staring at him, wondering if the article was true or not. Quickly Harry stood up. If he didn't leave right away, he just _knew_ someone would be under some painful curses. He thanked Merlin that Ginny wasn't present, because he didn't doubt for a moment he wouldn't hold back if she were.

He nearly ran from the room, dropping the paper back by Neville's plate as he passed. He had to escape quickly, find a place to take out his frustration… Harry headed for the Room of Requirement.

¤

Of course, actually walking into the room presented quite a shock when there was someone already present. With one look at the person, Harry leaned against the door and groaned, covering his eyes.

"Took you long enough, Potter," Draco spat from the couch where he sat on the edge of the room. Instantly Harry straightened, striding past Draco's spot and drawing his yew wand in one hand while leaving the other empty. If he even tried to talk to Malfoy, there was no speaking of what he was going to do. He mentally asked Hogwarts for something to blow up, and was infinitely thankful when several faceless training dummies melted out of the wall. He raised an arm, indicating for them to start.

Draco gave a cry as they lunged toward him, but Harry was ready. With a surge of anger and one clenched fist one dummy's torso exploded. He made an upward slashing motion with his wand, "_Tergum Tersum,_" and the cloth flesh ripped away from another dummy's frame, spilling inky blood all over the floor. He repeated this process in several different ways, until all the dummies were down and he was ready for another batch.

It was during this interval that he finally heard Draco's shouting.

"Stop ignoring me, Potter! I want answers!" Harry whirled, cutting down another figure wandlessly before he faced Draco.

"If you don't want to meet the same end as that dummy, Malfoy, you'll shut the hell up," Harry growled. Draco paled, sinking back into his couch. Harry was bound by an oath to protect him, which included not harming him, but right now it didn't seem worth it to tempt him.

All the while Harry snarled to himself about the idiocy of making that stupid vow.

At last, after half an hour of blasting away, Harry pocketed his wand, letting Hogwarts vanish the remains, including the spatters on his robes. His frustration spent, Harry felt substantially better. He turned back to the blond, who was simply staring at him.

"Now, _Draco_, what is it that you want to know?" Harry smirked.

Draco sputtered for a moment, stunned by his sudden change in attitude, "I-I want to know what that was about, I want to know what in the hell you did to Nott to turn him into a quivering fool this morning, and I want to know just what you're _into_, Potter!" he finished with a pompous uplifting of the nose.

"Not you, no matter what the Prophet says," Harry grumbled.

Malfoy didn't seem to hear him, instead continuing his tirade, "I want to know _why_ you even made that vow, I want to know how you got strong enough to pin a brute like Nott, I want to know why you're so-so Dark! Why are you so different, Potter?!" he ended with a gasp, having not taken a single breath.

Harry stared at the boy incredulously for a moment, wondering how to respond. Even if he told Draco the truth, he supposed it wouldn't really matter. Draco wouldn't go to Dumbledore, or anyone, for fear of losing Harry's protection. If the Malfoy felt betrayed, well…it was no great loss to Harry. He sighed.

"Well, Potter?" Draco spat, much more the haughty brat Harry had been used to for years, "I'm waiting for my explanation."

"Fine, you want to know? Really, Draco? I am allied with Voldemort and I negotiated with him to leave you alone. Does that explain it?"

Malfoy stared at him dumbly. Harry knew it was because the Slytherin thought he'd just cracked some sort of sick joke and was about to laugh. Harry stayed silent and serious.

"W-what?"

"You don't believe me?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"T-that can't be true! You're Dumbledore's Golden Boy…The Dark Lord would sooner kill you than ally with you, especially for protecting me!"

Harry couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped him, "Kill me? As if he could!…But that's the last thing he'd do anyway," he leaned closer to look directly into Draco's eyes, willing him to know that Harry was not lying, "I made a vow to protect your family, and that's exactly what I'm doing. Voldemort has agreed to leave you and your mum alone."

Tom's chosen name felt strange on his tongue after so long of simply referring to him as Tom. Draco's disbelief shone in his eyes, and Harry could see the betrayal he'd been holding back on a fragile hope was finally welling up.

"It's the Dark Lord, Potter! He would sooner break the promises he makes than keep them, especially to _you_!" Irritation at the boy rose and Harry was hard-pressed to keep from blurting out his secrets simply to shut Draco up.

"Don't pretend to know anything! Do you really think it's that much loss to him if he kills you or not?! He sent your classmates after you because the real Death Eaters were better used elsewhere. The only reason he even cares anymore is because I'm involved!" By this point Harry was jerking his hands to emphasize his speech and he was sure his eyes were flashing.

Harry stopped him when Draco open his mouth to argue, "I'm sick of talking about this! Go, put up your strongest shield charm, walk out the door and down the halls... I've fulfilled my oath to you, and nothing will happen!" In one swift movement Harry stood and strode to the door, "Don't bother me again until you have something of substance to argue!" and he was gone.

It took Draco several moments to realize just how many things hadn't been answered.

¤

Harry walked down the corridors fuming. He subconsciously avoided the crowded halls with the rush of students going to classes. Really, Harry didn't feel like going to class today, after all that had happened. It all going to catch up to him eventually in the forms of detentions and evil homework, Harry knew, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

Deeper and deeper he moved into the bowels of Hogwarts, not really paying any attention to the tittering of the paintings even as they gradually disappeared. He thought about going back to Gryffindor tower to find Ron, but quickly vetoed the idea. There would be too many staring students with free periods there. In addition, Harry doubted that his friend was skipping classes, even though he wasn't at breakfast.

Harry sighed as his pace slowed and his fists slowly unclenched. He hadn't felt his heart beat this morning, even in his fits of anger, and the feeling was disconcerting. Plus he was getting cold. As if on cue, he finally felt a gentle _thump_ in his chest.

All this stress…it was _definitely_ not good for his heart.

Just as the thought came and went, Harry turned a corner to be startled by the prone figure of a familiar redhead and a terrible scream as he cried out in pain.

"Ron!"

¤

A/N: Harry never can get a break, can he? Another chapter out, and in what, less than two weeks? EmpyrealFantasy is once again responsible. All blame lies with her.

I'm finally getting to one of my favorite parts of the plot, so chapters may or may not come out faster. I want to thank everyone for their meaningful reviews last chapter! They really encouraged me to write. Please review.


	10. This Insane Fantasy

This is the unbetaed version of this chapter, considering I wanted it to get out as soon as possible with all the begging I've been subjected to. XD Edited version will be put up when I get it back from Empy.

_"To the sober fantasy resides in a world that cannot be reached, but for the insane fantasy is a world that cannot be left." -Unknown_

¤

Hogwarts drew herself up as if taking in a deep breath. If she were any younger, she would be getting impatient with her heirs' antics by now. But she was well-aged, so Hogwarts was content to stay back and let her children fumble for themselves, as long as there were no more wishes.

Patience is a virtue, after all.

¤

Harry stared at his friend in horror for a moment, but the redhead groaned in pain, shaking him out of his shock.

"Ron! Ron, stay here, I'm going to get Madame Pomphrey!" Before he could move Ron's hand shot out to grab his.

"No! They don't believe me! I tried to tell Hermione, but she just brushed it off," he nearly shrieked. His eyes peered widely into Harry's and his hand was sweaty and shaking. "Please…they can't help," Ron whispered.

Harry sank to his knees beside his friend. The hand that wasn't clutching Harry's was still cradling Ron's own red mop. His hands seemed to tremble as if barely restrained from bashing his own head in. Harry's distress went up a few more notches when Ron whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ron…" he began, but didn't know what to say. He didn't understand what was going on. "What's happening to you?"

"It was the _brain_, Harry; that brain I summoned in the Department of Mysteries. It did something to my mind," his eyes shot open, pinning him beneath a desperate gaze, "I've suddenly just started _knowing_ things. There are voices in my head, telling me what to do! They're always saying not to trust anyone, to guard myself all the time. They're hardly ever quiet. Now…they're telling me to _kill_ people, Harry! I…I'm scared of what I might do," he tightened his hold on Harry's wrist, and Harry knew if he was anyone else it would be painful. He had an idea, but faltered. "I really need help, please?" Ron's blue eyes bore into him, reading his hesitancy. "Something, anything, while I can control myself."

The last of Harry's uncertainty was pushed down. He knew he would help and only one way came immediately to mind. He scooted closer to Ron so they faced each other. Ron had yet to let go of his hand.

"Ron, the only way I can think of…I'd have to go into your mind," he murmured.

"Just …do what you have to." Nodding, Harry stared, knowing this would be infinitely easier if he had eye contact. Ron's pained blues stared back.

"_Legillimens!"_

¤

Ron's mind was a familiar chaotic whirl, just as Harry's had been before Noir took it upon himself to drill Occlumency into him, but unfortunately the technique had only become effective _after_ his lessons with Snape.

Carefully, Harry waded through the whirl of memories, making sure not to look at any. There was no resistance, and this surprised him. Just as Harry started wondering what could possibly be wrong, he felt tremors ghosting past his presence, emanating from the very center of Ron's mind, making Harry pause+. Long ago, Noir told him that the imagined "core" of a mind held a person's magic and life force - to intrude upon that would be the deepest invasion of privacy a Legillimens could possibly perform.

He felt another ripple shudder around him and started hearing mute whispers and a ghost of the pain Ron might possibly be feeling. Harry suddenly couldn't bear to prolong his friend's agony. There was nothing for it, he had to help Ron! Harry pushed forward, deeper than he'd ever been in anyone's mind.

Finally his presence reached the center, where even his untrained friend would be able to sense his intrusion. Harry gasped mentally at the sight that overwhelmed him.

There was his friend's brightly shining 'core,' the massed amount of his magic and soul that shone silver-gold and glowed like a dim sun. Attached to the core was a sickly, gelatinous membrane substance the color of snot. Harry felt vaguely ill looking at the thing that was the exact replica of the brain from the Department of Mysteries in all but color and size.

The thing was _huge_! It's tentacles wrapped entirely around Ron's core as if trying to smother it. As Harry watched it contracted slightly, squeezing. Harry heard a distant yell and the whispers around him seemed to grow louder. He felt as if he didn't' have much time. Not know what else to do, Harry reached out with a tendril of thought to touch the brain, trying to pry it away.

The moment he touched the entity he knew he was out of his league. Harry had never been good at the mind arts, just good enough to get by; they required too much concentration, he being more of a power person. The brain struck him with a lashing tentacle and such fury that he was nearly sent careening back into his own head.

'There's no way I can do this. Bugger, I don't think _Snape_ would be able to deal with this thing!'

In that moment of thought another lash almost hit him, but Harry evaded. Formulating a decision, he made a tactical retreat.

¤

If not he or Snape, there was only one person he trusted. He needed Tom. The lord would be the only one able to fix this.

"Ron, I to have to take you to Tom," Harry spoke when he finally withdrew, shaken.

Ron stared at him, the whites of his eyes showing in panic. He was obviously hard-pressed to keep from fleeing.

"What?! Why?"

Harry bit his lip.

"I'm not powerful enough when it comes to Legillimency. I can't get that…thing to let go of your mind! Tom would be able to do it, since he's much better at these things than I am," Harry spoke evenly, trying to sooth his friend's near terror. Ron suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, holding his head again - except this time he didn't make a sound. After a minute he looked up hesitantly.

"You…have no idea how loud they're screaming at me now, for even _thinking_ of trusting you," he chuckled hoarsely, "Take me there, then," his voice was firm. Harry nodded resolutely, helping the gangly boy to his feet. The taller looked down at him, waiting for his instructions and occasionally wincing at another screech in his head.

It took a moment for Harry to check over their link if Tom was free. The Dark Lord indicated he was and he felt a tinge of curiosity drift over as he cut the connection.

"Ok. Uh, to let you know, this might feel a little weird." He gripped Ron's arm and closed his eyes, concentrating. In a moment they both disappeared.

¤

Voldemort steepled his fingers in front of him, glaring at Wormtail until the overweight rat skittered from his line of vision. He wouldn't vocalize it of course, but Voldemort had a problem.

He was bored.

This wasn't unusual as of late; he seemed unable to focus on the mundane tasks required of him when he knew that somewhere out there was a beautiful young man who wanted him more than anyone else in the world. Not for power, not for prestige… but for love. It had been months since Aspen had come back into his life, but still the mere idea of it shocked him. He could ignore that he was Harry Potter, ignore that the boy had actually moved beyond their past and made something wonderful between them…

The article that morning had been amusing. He was sure Aspen would be horribly worried about its repercussions, and though Voldemort was aware that it had been atrocious timing for such a revelation, it really was not the end of the world. The allegations of Harry's involvement with Malfoy Jr. had irritated him no matter how impossible they were, and he mentally marked down Rita Skeeter off on his list of people to kill - right after Dumbledore and Ginerva Weasley. She wasn't important enough to be priority over them, after all. The Daily Prophet itself for actually printing such a ludicrous article came next, followed by Snape in the most painful way possible once he'd outlived his use…

'Tom? Tom, are you busy?'

Voldemort paused in his musings as the object of his thoughts suddenly sounded in his mind in a voice that verged on panic. 'Aspen? No, I'm free… what is the problem?'

The young vampire didn't answer, and Voldemort was concerned and more than a small bit curious. It seemed, in true Harry Potter fashion, Aspen couldn't get even a moment's rest. Something exciting or disrupting always seemed to follow him, no matter the name he went by. A hairless brow raised as the younger man Flicked into the room with his arms around a half-limp Ronald Weasley, Aspen's bright eyes pleading. "Tom, I… can you help him?"

Voldemort stood and walked over to where Aspen was settling the Weasley on the floor, glancing over the redhead. He seemed in pain despite the lack of injury, sweat beading along his hairline and his brow scrunched together. "What is the problem?"

"His mind…" Aspen was obviously having problems putting his thought into words, as his hands waved around frantically, "That thing…it's disgusting… I'm not nearly a talented enough Legillimens to fix this…" The young man was observably pleading for his help, frustrated and panicked.

"I'll be cleaning up your messes from now on, won't I?" Voldemort sighed. Casting a quick glance at his anxious lover, Voldemort leaned over Weasley and pressed his wand to the boy's temple. "_Legillimens_."

¤

His thoughts were revoltingly unorganized, as becoming of a Weasley brat. Voldemort growled to himself. Already he could feel something was wrong and he didn't have time to deal with these miniscule stray thoughts.

Voldemort harshly shoved his way through, careful not to damage anything. Aspen would be upset if he harmed this boy further. He reached the boy's center with hardly any effort.

But he quickly recoiled.

Had some ghost hacked a grotesque, malignant loogie on Weasley's mind? It certainly appeared that way. Voldemort didn't have anymore time to contemplate on the thing's disgusting appearance, as one of its visible tentacles uncoiled, grasping at his mind and seeking to destroy him. He sneered, understanding immediately that this parasite was the thing responsible for breaking the Weasley boy and causing such distress to his love.

Bracing his mind, Voldemort readied himself for attack with a surge of rage. The blob, now identified as a brain, was very strong. If he couldn't destroy it, he was going to lock the thing away forever.

¤

Surprising even Harry, Tom asked few questions, instead setting right to work on his half-conscious friend.

Harry cast his eyes around for a chair, needing to sit down and try to regain his mental equilibrium, but his thoughts were waylaid when he spied a very familiar mass of balding gelatinous traitor. Harry's lip lifted in a cross between a smirk and a snarl, settling on the cowering Pettigrew. "Well, well, well…Hello Wormtail," the words escaped in a hiss before Harry could stop them.

His fingers twitched in an aborted attempt to clench them into a fist; knowing his temper, he thought he would preempt any injury to his person by keeping his steadily sharpening nails away from his flesh. His mental state was already unbalanced by the Daily Prophet article, Ginny, Malfoy, and now Ron. And who better to take out his rage upon than the sniveling little parasite in front of him?

This man was the betrayer of his parents and Sirius. Though Harry had long ago put aside his hatred for what Tom had done, he couldn't find it in himself to do the same for Peter.

But no…Tom probably wouldn't appreciate him ripping one of his servants limb from limb or draining them into a shriveled husk… so Harry resisted every urge to leap at Pettigrew and pay him back for every consequence of his actions. All his instincts were suddenly screaming at him to make this man prey…he had to forcibly remind himself of the Ancients' promise not to take blood from those unwilling. Harry forced himself to stay still and merely watch the cowering rat.

He saw the moment Pettigrew put two and two together, saw the way watery eyes flicked up towards Harry's forehead then back to eyes that, though occasionally flashing gold, still hovered mostly on his famous green. Lily's eyes, they'd always said, and Pettigrew would have seen those eyes often in their original owner. Pettigrew was putting two and two together - glancing between Harry and Tom. The man was a coward, but he was clever.

"H-Harry…" Pettigrew whined out, eyes round.

"I don't recall ever being familiar enough with you to allow you to use my name like that," Harry snarled, "And you won't refer to me at all if you know what's good for you. You're only alive right now because I can't ask for permission to end your miserable existence." Really, these past few day hadn't been good to him, to make him so snippy.

The man either didn't seem to hear or believe the threat, starting to blather on, begging and whining for his forgiveness. Harry stared at the whimpering man trying to scrabble for some non-violent way to get the man away from him. Nothing came up in a hurry.

"Get away from me!" Harry yelled, kicking at Pettigrew when the man came a little to close for comfort in his groveling. He could feel his control waning the longer the rat went on. It nearly broke when Harry saw Pettigrew's silver hand flash dimly in the torchlight, yet another reminder of all the things he had suffered through because of this man.

"P-please Harry, don't kill me! Your mum and dad were my best friends and I never meant to hurt them-"

And Harry lost it. He shot to his feet, wand poised to lay curse after curse on the craven.

"You, I'll never forgive you for what you've done! I can forgive Tom because he was the enemy - he was trying to kill me from the start and it was expected. But you…" Harry jabbed his wand into the man's slick forehead, "You were their best friend, you little traitor…" Pettigrew was in tears by the end of his tirade, the fat that had never gone away quivering under Harry's glare.

"Peter, leave us." Harry started at the smooth voice, and Pettigrew took his distraction as a means to escape, quickly fleeing the room.

Harry sneered but decided to ignore him in favor of watching Tom levitate Ron's still form from the rug onto a nearby sofa. All the anger swept out of him from looking at his pale friend. Harry took it as a good thing Ron was no longer writhing in agony, but was motionless and unconscious.

"Will…will he be all right?" Tom pocketed his wand and sank into a cushioned chair, his body slumping in a way that told Harry just how exhausted he was.

"Before I can answer that, I need you to tell me what that was, Aspen."

¤

"There is little I can do about the hold the brain has on him. As I said, I was unable to destroy it. Magical bindings were almost impossible to create - the organism has too much of a hold on his center. As it was, the thing has been feeding on the boy so long that it's nearly impossible to contain. Any strain on the bindings could fracture them," Voldemort calmly explained.

Aspen's eyes widened as he stared down at his friend, who was already showing signs of waking. "What will set it off? Is there any way to kill it or put it down forever?" Voldemort sighed and placed a fist to his forehead, taking comfort in the cool metal of the promise ring. It did something to alleviate his burgeoning headache. As experienced in the ways of the world that Aspen was, he found the young man entirely too optimistic at times.

"Months of research would be required to destroy something that the Department of Mysteries created, and with Weasley's constant exposure to the other children, leaving him unattended would not be a wise idea if you're trying to avoid homicide," Voldemort hissed dryly, taking note of the boy's eyes fluttering open, "Weasley will need to be secluded from others to prevent strain on the protections I've placed." Voldemort raised a hairless brow as Aspen appeared to sink deep into thought. The young vampire had finally calmed down and was sitting on the sofa's edge next to his now conscious and alert friend.

Weasley's eyes darted around the room, noting the escape exits - then his eyes landed on Voldemort and he tensed. The Dark Lord gazed back expressionlessly. The boy wouldn't be worth his time if not for Aspen. The aforementioned person suddenly straightened and turned quickly, gazing down at his friend as his face lit up.

"H-Harry?" Weasley croaked.

"Don't worry, Ron. I think…I have a plan."

Voldemort stiffened as a chill of foreboding crept up his spine.

¤ **Cue scene that I'm tired of trying to fit in somewhere:**

Tonight was one of their few moments of peace…

Harry blinked where he was propped comfortably against Tom's arm on the couch.

"I just remembered something!"

The other looked up from Slytherin's journal, red eyes flickering over his lithe form. "What is it?"

"You owe me twenty galleons!"

This time it was Voldemort's turn to blink. Then he scowled. "Using your knowledge of the future to place a bet on Abraxas' death makes the bet invalid," he hissed. Aspen waggled a finger at him in a moment of immaturity.

"Ah, but you never set down terms for the bet. Besides, wouldn't you say it was a very…-Ssslytherin thing to do?- he smirked. Voldemort scowled and hissed something obscene back at him, but finally got up to summon the gold through the warded door.

When he returned with a small bag in hand, he was quite suddenly _very_ distracted by a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, and lips on his neck as the smaller man pressed against him.

-C'mon, Tom, I'm rich enough to buy a mini-kingdom. What would I need more gold for?-

The bag was dropped and forgotten for quite a while.

¤

A/N: As things are, I consider the story about halfway through, with the best parts of the plot still to come. Also, I've had a large upspring of plot bunnies lately, so I think it's best I start to plan ahead unless I want them to plague and distract me. :D Please review and tell me which of these HP stories you'd like to read after UCG is done:

_A Blank Soul [Une Â me Blanche_ : Sequel to UCG. 400 years after taking over the world, Harry is thrown into Arda. Wandless and believing Tom to be dead, he struggles with his control and to get through a strange world filled with forces beyond his imagination. Slash. Lord of the Rings Xover.

_Right Where It Belongs:_ Something peculiar happens when Harry steals a peek at Snape's Pensieve. He's pulled into Severus' memories, becoming barely more than a shadow himself. [Includes some themes from DH Eventual SSHP, and somehow sort of canon. Timetravel and ghostliness on Harry's part.

Please review!


	11. Ron's Demise

_"For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night." _

**William Shakespeare **

¤

Tom grudgingly agreed to Harry's plan, though not without a few conditions. Ron, on the other hand, was much hard to convince. Even with his 'problem' only fixed temporarily, his friend was still reluctant.

"What…what about my family?"

"…When everything is over - soon, I promise, Ron."

"…All right."

And that was the end of things.

¤

In Harry's panic for Ron's health, he'd wasted precious time looking around for Letalis. The young man had forgotten the snake's desire to stay at Tom's manor and explore, curious thing that she was. She'd done the same at the Potter manor in their first days there.

Just as planning was winding down, Letalis slithered into the room, hissing irritably.

-What's wrong?- Harry asked, checking her over. She didn't appear injured, so he couldn't see the cause of her tetchiness.

-You!- the albino reptile glared at Voldemort, -Your ssstupid little boa jussst tried to kill me, Tom. Ssshe ambussshed me in the hall and tried to ssstrangle me…ssshe didn't know I can change sssize, the jealousss little bitch.- The last was muttered softly, but everyone heard clearly.

Harry snickered. Tom grimaced and mimed banging his head into the wall in frustration. Ron was just confused.

¤

Hogwarts had no linear way of thinking - for her every moment was an endless circle of consciousness. The day Salazar left her halls in disgust forever was but seconds ago - the minute of the exodus of the last child from her fading halls was a sighing breath away. No memory was dimmed or forgotten, no future unknown. The magic within her walls was as ageless as the ground she was built upon.

Her children would all age and die someday, but the mother would not mourn; they would live in her memory forever, feeding the growth and comfort of new children.

She was not sad to never see a descendant of sweet Helga again, but Godric's children were with her and Rowena's not far away. Hogwarts looked forward to the day - remembered the day - that Salazar's child would finally come back to her.

¤

Ron hadn't been sure of this plan at first. After all, he'd be putting his life in the hands of Lord Voldemort, _evil extraordinaire. _He'd been raised with tales of the terrifying things the Dark Lord had done, and Ron admitted to being a bit scared of remaining in close quarters with the man.

But now that Ron had actually met him, he didn't seem nearly so frightening. Yes, he could see Voldemort for what he was, powerful and insane.

But he was also bloody soft on Harry.

Ron supposed he could understand that, with the whole 'lost love showing up miraculously alive' thing going on. He promised from the beginning to trust Harry, and if that included the man he…was in _love with_, then Ron supposed that he'd have to trust _him_ as well.

Though Ron sincerely hoped the Dark Lord had been a handsome bloke; he couldn't imagine Harry's taste for falling in love with someone so butt ugly.

¤

Classes were all right. Harry's reputation in the school kept others from coming to close, something that helped greatly in maintaining Ron's control. Other times it almost became too much for the redhead, the brain's insane paranoid influence chipping away at the boy's restraint. It was in times like these that Harry would be late for class, having spent time helping Ron calm down. He was no longer hearing voices, but the brain had succeeded in breaking Harry's friend so well that he couldn't relax even for a moment. Harry spent nights losing the battle not to fall asleep before Ron did.

"Just a bit longer, Ron," Harry touched the sickly boy's shoulder gently. Ron just nodded.

¤

Professor McGonagall stared down he nose gravely, and Harry had to fight the urge to shrink in his chair. The eager-to-learn seventh year that had reminded him so much of the old Hermione was hardly there. Harry had hardly known her younger self, but he'd counted on some bit of familiarity beneath his Head's stony countenance to assure him during this meeting. There was none.

"I want to say how surprised I was when you rejected the Quidditch Captaincy this year, Mr. Potter; I had to give it to McLaggen," the deputy headmistress shook her head, "And to quit Quidditch altogether! I was deeply shocked."

Harry shrugged. After the freedom of being able to fly where and whenever he wanted at the manor this summer, Harry'd come to realize how much he enjoyed just being on a broom. He didn't need to play Quidditch to fly. Adding that to his realization of just how much stress he was going to be under this year, rejecting the captaincy had been surprisingly painless. Harry didn't even miss the game all that much, just the chance to get out on a broom.

"You understand what you were called here for, I trust?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded, "I've been late to several classes and I skipped detentions."

"Not only that, but your dorm mates report that many nights you're not in bed, _after curfew_. With all the rumors flying about and the rubbish the Prophet is spewing, this is a cause for concern," McGonagall looked over her desk at where he sat in hard wooden chair. For a moment Harry thought he saw her eyes soften behind her glasses, "I want to help you, Harry. If you tell me what's wrong I will try my best to fix it." The look on her face told him she was completely serious.

Feeling a stab of panic at what questions might come if he didn't answer her, Harry thought fast for an excuse, grasping the first thing that came to mind. "Draco!" inwardly, he was cursing himself for being so stupid, but McGongall's eyes lit up as she latched into it.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Erm, well..." Harry was amazed at his own storytelling abilities as he launched into a purely fictional telling of his 'relationship' with Malfoy. He told of how the boy wanted to be safe from Voldemort and had approached him and the friendship they had forged. He left enough ambiguous comment to suggest something more, hoping he wouldn't have to outright say anything. Merlin, Tom was going to have his head for this.

¤

Voldemort stood tall, looking down on his mass of black-robed followers. A slow smirk crawled onto his face, looking so eerie that several of the Death Eaters shivered slightly.

"Tomorrow, there is to be an attack on Hogsmeade."

A low buzz of muttering met his statement, as many knew that tomorrow was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students of Hogwarts. Several Death Eaters had children there, and the possibility of harming them made many distinctly uncomfortable. He assured them concisely.

"There shall be _no _fatalities! This is a terror strike. Convene tomorrow after sunrise…Go," Voldemort swept his hand in dismissal, causing the Death Eaters to Disapparate to the locations from which they'd come. Voldemort grinned stiffly; there were few things he enjoyed more than a plan well-laid.

¤

Harry took in a breath of fresh October air as he walked down the path to Hogsmeade. Ron was beside him, looking distinctly better than he had all week with the voices temporarily locked away. Ron was making some light-hearted conversation about the Halloween Feast, wondering if any of his favorite dishes would be served and whether or not there would be that new flavor of treacle tart his mum was going nuts about in her letters.

Harry listened to his chatter good naturedly. With his friend so energetic Harry was feeling better about the occasion. Perhaps everything would go well today after all, despite the fact that something bad always seemed to happen to him on All Hallow Eve. Harry sighed slightly at the thought, trying to focus on what Ron was saying.

They reached the outskirts of the village where they could see many shops already coming alive with people.

"First stop, Honeydukes!" Ron suddenly cheered. Harry smiled and followed, eager to grab a few Blood Pops and some Ice Mice for Tom while he was there; he hoped the Dark Lord still liked them.

¤

On his outward façade, Albus Dumbledore remained perfectly calm and collected as his deputy told him of the meeting she'd held with Harry Potter last evening, but as each word passed her lips he felt himself grow more and more alarmed.

True, the Daily Prophet had already hinted at this, but Albus simply dismissed it as more of the Ministry's garbage, trying to make Harry and Dumbledore himself look bad. But now that Minerva was repeating word from Harry's own mouth, Albus couldn't help but fear a little.

He'd known that Harry temper was growing out of control, especially after the blowup the boy had in his office - thankfully none of his instruments had been irreparably damaged. He'd worried about the young wizard for a while, but his anxiety had been temporarily assuaged by his renewed friendship with the Weasley boy. Weasleys were notorious for being firmly on the Light side and never befriending Dark wizards. It had been worth the effort to put the Weasley family in the perfect position to meet Harry in his first year.

Even with the Granger girl voicing doubts, Dumbledore believed the best in Harry.

But evidence was piling up against his case - Harry was associating with Lucius Malfoy's son. Albus knew Harry had a great capacity to love and if he somehow fell in love with Draco Malfoy, the blond boy would be able to lead him astray to the Dark side easily. The headmaster felt a pang of familiarity at the situation but he shook it away, not wanting to sink into memories of the long-ago past.

Dismissing Minerva with several vague reassurances, Albus sat down to plan. He would have to watch the boy for a while and look for suspicious behavior. The changes in Harry were easily seen, but Dumbledore wanted to be sure. Albus withdrew a vial from one multihued sleeve and held it up to the light, examining the liquid inside as it glinted and cast rainbows in the late October sunlight.

Albus smiled wearily, truly hoping it wouldn't come to this.

¤

It didn't take long for Harry to notice they were being shadowed. Whether invisible or not, Mad-Eye Moody stood out in a crowd and it was impossible to dismiss him once Harry sensed his presence.

Hurriedly Harry distracted Ron by pointing out an interesting display in the window of Zonko's. It wouldn't do to have his friend notice Moody, or Ron's paranoia would start acting up and he'd get twitchy enough for Moody to notice. Harry scowled slightly as his ears picked up the steady _thunk thunk_ of Mad-Eye's foot and the man's distractingly irregular heartbeat that leapt at every little motion the milling children of Hogsmeade made. Having an Auror trailing them was the last thing Harry needed at this point.

He scanned the area around them, looking for a good place to lose the man. As Harry searched he noticed a small group of Slytherins hurry out of his path as Harry followed his friend around. He smirked at their behavior, knowing exactly why the Slytherins were sending those wary looks his way. Although Harry hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Draco all week, he'd heard from Tom exactly what had been done to ensure Malfoy's safety. Tom put a ward on Theodore that allowed Nott to inform the other Death eater children that Malfoy was off limits and, as a bonus, to be wary of Harry at all costs. Harry didn't know how Tom had constructed such an elaborate ward in so little time, but the spell also ensured that that any information Nott shared could not be passed on any farther. He really had to admire the power and skill that Tom acquired over the years since Harry had known him.

On the other hand the rest of the school was still avoiding him, but they'd taken to whispering loudly as he passed in light of the new gossip that rag called a newspaper was spilling out. Harry made no comment on the continued speculation on his sexual preferences and his relationship with Draco. He'd taken to eating in the kitchens, much to Dobby's delight.

However, when the Great Hall couldn't be avoided he endured the stares and ate quietly in the company of a once-again animated Ron and occasionally Neville. The pudgy boy was growing up a bit and Harry found that he really did enjoy talking with Neville because he didn't care what others said about Harry and was willing to find out for himself. It warmed Harry greatly that someone he'd paid so little attention to in past could turn out to be such a great friend.

Harry unwrapped a Blood Pop and stuck it in his mouth, smiling as a salty copper flavor flowed over his tongue. The candy was a little off from the flavor of real human blood, being too sweet, but the pops were apparently made with the thought of a treat for vampires and wizards with strange tastes in mind. Harry thought it nice that Honeydukes was willing to subtly cater to the non-human population, even after all this time.

A familiar feeling of anti-apparation wards rising gave Harry pause, his body freezing in the middle of the road. An explosion shuddered through the air with a loud _BOOM_, and suddenly the street was filled with hooded and masked forms. People realized what was happening began to panic, screeching and yelling as everyone tried to get away but realized they could not Apparate. Hexes began to speed through the air as Harry swiftly drew his wand, but froze. Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"Bugger!" Harry dropped his sweet in the dirt as he sensed Moody move toward him, probably aiming to stick a portkey on him that lead to Headquarters or some such place. Harry growled, pushing through a crowd of wizards who had not yet recognized him, or no doubt they would be pushing him to the front lines to fight the Death Eaters. He had to find Ron.

Then Harry heard one particularly familiar yell among the other screams and explosions; he rushed forward, ignoring a stunning spell sent his way and disregarding Moody's pursuing presence.

'Ron!'

The terrified crowd parted just for a moment, and Harry finally caught a glimpse of his friend. There was Ron, eyes like chips of ice, lying in a pool of blood. Harry froze at the sight, feeling his heart stop too. It was then that Moody caught up to him, trying to wrench the boy from the scene.

"No! Let me go to him!" Harry struggled in the scarred man's grip.

Moody snarled, "Stupid boy! There's nothing you can do for him. We have to leave!" Still Harry fought his grasp, reaching for his wand - then he heard a muttered, "Stupefy," and the world went red before falling into black.

* * *

A/N: It's late, I'm tired, and all you Ron haters probably love me right now. That will change. On the other hand, early chapter! Hope you appreciate it. Thanks for all the input on 'A Blank Soul' and 'Right Where It Belongs' guys! So far voting seems to be in favor of ABS, but I'd still like to hear your opinions.

Please review!


	12. An Enemy No One Fears

_"The most dangerous enemy is that which no one fears." _

_**Angels & Demons**_**, Dan Brown**

¤

Harry moaned and held his head as he awoke, groaning as his forehead throbbed. Getting stunned _had not_ been part of the plan.

Harry rolled over and groaned again as he realized where he was. The room he'd shared with a Ron in Grimmauld place was one of the last places he wanted to be right now, but at least it wasn't the hospital wing, where Harry's lack of humanity ran the risk of being discovered by Madame Pomphrey at any moment.

It was time to face the world and start acting…The dummy had been so realistic, if Harry hadn't known that Ron had taken a safe Portkey away he would have been much more distraught, probably to the point of tearing Moody's arms off to get to his friend if he had to. Harry shook his head as he sat up. Some of Ron's blood had been used in the spell that constructed the doll, so any tests of the thing would come up with a positive identity as Ronald Billius Weasley.

Seeing the dummy 'dead' on the ground had given even himself a moment of heart-wrenching horror. Harry couldn't imagine what it must have done to the Weasley family…Harry felt his chest clench, but shook the feeling away. It would be painful for them to see Ron dead, but not nearly as much as if the redhead lost control in school and killed someone…Harry shuddered.

A knock at the old wooden door startled him out of his thoughts, and the bedraggled face of Nymphadora Tonks appeared in the doorframe.

"Harry?"

…It was time to face the world and start acting. Harry felt so drained…

¤

Voldemort's red eyes swept the room, and all the Death Eaters shivered with a sense of impending doom.

"Who killed Weassssley?" the Dark Lord hissed, his wand already tapping the arm of the chair he sat in. Naturally, none of his followers came forward, as Voldemort had expected. Who would confess to a crime they had not committed? On the exterior his expression became angry, but inwardly Voldemort smirked at the cowards looking to each other, looking for anyone to serve as a scapegoat to endure his wrath.

"Rodolphus!" he called to the elder Lestrange brother. The member of his inner circle hesitantly stepped forward, radiating tension even under his bone-white mask. "Were there any other casualties?" the lord bit out.

"Er, only one, on our side, my lord…Antonin Brookes took a Blaster through a shop window. His head cracked open on the wall," there was a hint of incredulity in Rodolphus' voice, causing Alecto Carrow to snort and several heads to turn her way. Silently Voldemort agreed; that was a ridiculous way to die, even for a new Death Eater such as Brookes.

"Very well…I have urgent business to attend to. You are dismissed," Voldemort finished impatiently, getting out of his seat to leave the room. The congregation stared at his retreating form for a moment, disbelieving of the situation. The Dark Lord left without punishing, or even reprimanding them for failure.

Had their Lord just shown mercy?

¤

Ron sighed and looked around the room in dismay. This was where he'd be staying, at least until the end of the war. It was so…boring! Not a hint of real color besides gray or brown; Ron desperately longed for the smashing orange of his room at the Burrow or the cheerful red and gold of the Gryffindor dorms.

On the plus side, he'd already equipped the place with a chess board, it was clean, and he didn't have to worry about waking up in the morning to find he'd killed all his dorm mates - the red head huffed again at the thought. Voldemort was a few hallways down (enough to ensure his privacy) from Ron, so he didn't have to worry about the voices getting control again. The dark lord even supplied his room with headache potions for when things got too stressful.

The youngest Weasley boy threw himself on the drab but comfortable bed, trying not to look at the desk in the corner. The entire top surface was swamped in stacks of parchment, all containing stratagems, statistics and "troop counts." Voldemort had been reluctant to let Ron stay in his manor until Harry casually mentioned Ron's seeming genius at anything connected to strategy, even if just on the chess board. Ron was still uncomfortable with the glint the snake-man had gotten in his eyes at the words. Voldemort finally buckled under Harry's will, under the condition that Ron was to help him with devising strategies to bring down the Ministry - _bloodlessly_.

Later Ron understood Harry's enthusiastic agreement when the vampire explained that it meant Voldemort was starting to embrace the new ideals Harry was trying to introduce by giving him Slytherin's journal. Ron took a while to grasp the concept, but eventually he comprehended what the other was going for and agreed. He wouldn't feel nearly as guilty about helping the Dark side if no one got hurt.

Groaning, Ron pulled himself from the bed and padded to the desk. The sooner he finished this paperwork, the sooner he could play chess and visit with Harry.

It felt almost like he was still in school with all this bloody _homework_.

¤

There was the softest of cracking noises as Remus appeared in the dapple-dark forest. He stepped out of the cover of trees into a nearby clearing, tipping his head to the moon's half-shaded face gazing benignly down at him; Remus felt Moony whine softly with pleasure.

He might have been too worried about his cub to come here on this night, but Harry'd sent a letter to him reassuring the werewolf that he was peachy and Ronald Weasley quite alive - Remus felt glad that the plan had worked though. The Daily Prophet was no longer hounding his cub about being evil, instead setting him up once again as their savior and an object of pity for losing his best friend.

"Cub," a voice growled from the darkness surrounding him, wrenching his thoughts away. Remus' hand jerked involuntarily to his wand, but he stilled with a large amount of self-control. Fenrir padded into the clearing soundlessly, despite his bulky figure. He was closely tailed by several others; werewolves, Remus could immediately distinguish from their collective scents and body types.

Remus bowed his head the smallest increment in acknowledgement to the alpha, knowing the man would see it. He felt slightly leery of Greyback, even in such a comforting environment. Remus had spent years hating the man for the hell he'd made of his life. It was only now, with the knowledge of his reasons coming to the forefront and the Light side of the war out for werewolf blood, that Remus could even think of joining the man who turned him into something both less and more than human. Even with the acceptance of his wolf side Lupin found Fenrir's taste for biting small children repulsive.

"Greyback," he growled lightly back to the wolf-man. The weather-beaten face grinned, revealing pointed teeth that glowed white in the moonlight. Fenrir laughed deeply, striding forward and slinging an arm over Remus' shoulder. Startled, the younger stiffened, amber eyes meeting grey-brown.

"No need to be so formal, Remus!" Fenrir said, ignoring the tense form beside him, "After all, we're all pack here."

The men and women surrounding them growled their happy assent, eyes shining from the under brushed untouched by light. Remus noticed many of them were naked. As this pack lived mostly in the wild, he supposed it didn't matter since werewolves produced more body heat than most. However this made him feel severely overdressed, even in just his patchy robes.

Fenrir's arm on his shoulder was daunting, but when he tried to move away the shaggy-haired man caught him in an iron grip and leaned close, heated breath gusting over Remus' face and his fanged mouth too close for comfort.

"Welcome to the family, cub."

A hot tongue swiped over his jaw, tasting him in the space of a moment; Remus couldn't quite hold back Moony's whimper as the wolf cried something terrifyingly familiar. Fenrir grinned and suddenly let him go, throwing his head back in a howl of delight.

"Let's go home!" and Greyback took off at inhuman speeds. Stunned and mortified, Remus had no choice but to follow as the rest of the laughing pack disappeared into the forest.

¤

"Harry!" he wasn't prepared for an attack the moment he appeared, so barely restrained himself from injuring the redhead that latched onto him as he Flicked into the room. Harry stumbled and swayed a bit as Ron hugged him fully before letting go. "You're _finally _here! You wouldn't believe how boring it's been! I get to go out on the grounds to fly, invisible of course, but V-Voldemort's piling so much paperwork on me that I hardly have any time. I missed _talking_ to someone! How are you?"

Harry blinked as Ron ended his rant, surprised to see his friend acting so open. After the events a couple weeks ago he didn't think that spark would ever return to Ron's eyes, but there it was, nonetheless. However, despite recent complications, Ron grew up in a large family and was used to interacting with people. It was obvious he'd longed for Harry's company. Tom wasn't the most social creature unless you knew what to talk about. The vampire grinned at the thought of Ron trying to strike up a conversation about the Chudley Cannons' chances at winning the World Cup this year with the taciturn dark lord.

"Things are fine, Ron. Everyone was easy to fool. All I have to do was look mopey and glare at anyone that comes near me. Have you been reading the Prophet?" Ron rolled his eyes and pointed at a stack of newspapers on his desk, "Oh…well, seems I'm not a nutter anymore since my best friend died. Now I'm the slightly off-kilter icon of the Light again, ready to take revenge against my friend's killer. It bloody sucks because I'm being stared at _more_ now, if possible."

Harry plopped into a chair in front of the chess board without invitation, leaving Ron to set up the pieces with an ease brought from years of playing the game.

"I got a letter from Remus yesterday. He's gone to join Greyback's pack, so they should be here in a few days. I told him about the plan, so he knows your alright and he's someone else you can talk to."

Ron nodded without speaking, his gaze suddenly so turmoiled that Harry tensed under it.

"Everything went according to plan…no one suspected the body wasn't real, right?" Confused, Harry nodded. "How…how did my family take it?" Ron's eyebrows drew together, and the raven boy suddenly realized that his friend was feeling guilty for the pain he knew he must have caused them.

"Er, I went to your funeral, but no one really talked to me, understandably. Your mum and dad looked pretty torn up, Ron. She was crying all over his coat. The twins and Bill and Charlie were pretty quiet the whole time. Percy wasn't there, I think Fudge had him working. Ginny, well…" Harry frowned and shrugged, not really wanting to go into the way she almost completely ignored her brother's funeral, choosing to stare unnervingly at Harry the entire time instead.

Ron was staring dejectedly down at the board, a mumbled phrase causing his white knight to make the first move of the game. Harry's heart ached as he was suddenly wracked with his own guilt. It was _his _fault his friend felt this way - all of this had been his idea.

"Ron, I promise that after this war is over we'll find a cure, and you can go back to your family. It'll be over soon-"

He was interrupted by the redhead's bitter laughter, "Easy for _you_ to say. You're not the one being constantly threatened with death by piles of tactics papers!" even so he cracked a smile, finally breaking the foul mood. Harry was startled that his stubborn friend dropped the matter so easily, but didn't look a gift thestral in the mouth. Both of them were eager to change the subject, drowning in the chatter of lighter matters as Ron thoroughly trounced Harry on the chess board.

¤

It was with both relief and disappointment that Voldemort finally closed Slytherin's journal. The last three pages of the book were blank, indicating in all probability that Salazar died before he could extend the journal's contents further with the aid of magic. Somehow, the Dark founder of Hogwarts was far different from any persona that Voldemort had ever imagined for the man. While far from having a pacifist nature, the man did not kill his enemies and Mudbloods alike indiscriminately.

Though the Dark Lord supposed he couldn't call them that anymore, descendants of Squibs that they were.

Voldemort sighed and placed the book beside him, being careful not to shift and disturb the head that lay on his lap. Absently his fingers wove into Aspen's long unbound hair, delicately separating red strands from black. Ruby eyes trailed down the sleeping form that took up the entire couch, his hand following them. The dark lord smiled in pleasure as he only lightly felt the young man's ribs, assured that the teenager was getting enough to eat. Sometimes he worried about the young man's health, with him spending all his late nights here with Voldemort.

Settling a hand on the slumbering vampire's hip, he pondered on his relationship with the younger wizard. Since the eve of the rediscovery of his love, Voldemort had not seen Aspen with more than his shirt removed. In the beginning the dark lord was too shocked at his former lover's return to even think of reinstating sexual relations. Afterward, he'd been comfortable with the heated kisses, and just being able to hold his love in arms that lay cold for so long.

Back when he was still know as Tom Riddle he'd taken many lovers, both male and female, trying to dull the incessant ache that pounded relentlessly after the passing of Aspen Noir from his life. But he never kissed them, never touched his lips to theirs, was never satisfied with what those wizards and witches offered. None could know him as Aspen had, down to his very blood and murder-filled heart.

But still, having him back made Voldemort wonder what the delay was. Aspen had already made it clear that he was in no way repulsed by the grotesque body Voldemort found himself housed in - his willingness to kiss and be close to the dark lord dismissed those doubts out of hand. Still, Voldemort found himself starting to want more. It had been a long time - too long since he last beheld Aspen's ecstasy-filled eyes and held the other close as their skin cooled from exertion. The dark lord's hand wandered over the muscled plane of the slumbering wizard's stomach.

How he would dearly love to wake him, but Aspen needed his sleep when he was so desperately exhausted…

The hand still entwined in Aspen's hair fisted as the voice of his familiar drifted to his ears.

-Revolting half-breed vampire…he isss not worthy of your time, massster,- the constrictor hissed, causing Voldemort to look sharply at her, eyes narrowed but saying nothing. A stir of anger flooded through the dark lord as her words sank in - he had still not talked to the snake since her attack on Aspen's familiar. Nagini slithered closer over the stone floor, her yellow eyes pleading as she raised herself for Voldemort to see clearly.

-Have I not ssserved you faithfully? Have I not been by your ssside all this time, Massster? There isss nothing the new pet can do that I cannot, nothing he can give you that I cannot do better. Why have you abandoned me, your faithful ssservant for thisss piece of filth? Am I not your life, your sssoul, massster?-

Voldemort's fury rose at his familiar's foolish words - he let go of Aspen's hair, not wanting to jerk it and hurt him, -What brought thisss on, Nagini?- his tone threatened punishment if she said more against his love, but the snake either did not hear or ignored the warning.

-He isss undessserving of your attention, master! You do not realize, but I sssee how he triesss to control you. That mongrel isss good for nothing, he isss not better than me, massster!" The dark lord felt his anger increase from simmering to a boil as the reptile continued to speak, oblivious to the death she was laying out for herself as she spoke ill of the one thing that mattered most to her master. It was one phrase that nearly made Voldemort nearly snap and expunge one piece of his soul than and there.

-He will feed on your kindnesssss and leave you forever! He doesssn't…-

Nagini froze, paralyzed by magic that held the hiss of her words back. Voldemort had drawn his wand, barely restraining green light at its tip as his magic lashed in his rage to fix his familiar to the spot.

-Nagini,- his voice caressed, full of the darkness that suddenly suffocated the air about them like a thick cloak, -If you want to continue to live you will leave me presssence…and _never_ ssspeak badly of my mate again. Do you underssstand me?- Voldemort's sheer ire shook rattled along the walls in the form of shadows. He allowed the snake to nod before he sneered, banishing her to the grounds outside where the weather was unbearably cold, normally deadly to a snake, but as a Horcrux she would survive.

As Voldemort tucked the yew wand away his anger settled but did not disappear completely; it lurked beneath the surface, ready to burst free at the slightest provocation. His psychosis grew exponentially, and Aspen slept on, unawares.

¤

"Albus, I'm telling you, there's something wrong with Potter!"

"He just lost his best friend, Severus, of course there is something wrong. They were close-"

"That is not what I meant, Minerva! The boy is going Dark. I can feel it…you're losing him, Headmaster."

"I assure you, I'm already investigating, my boy. But Harry is in a delicate condition at the moment. Upsetting him after such a loss would not be wise."

"Albus, I hate to admit but I agree with Severus. Is there nothing we can do? Some way to monitor his activities so we may be sure?"

"I already have a plan in the works, not to worry. Severus, have you noticed any changes in the actions of your Slytherins towards Harry lately?"

"…I have. They seem to be avoiding Potter. I questioned Nott and Parkinson, but neither would tell me why. There is nothing more I can do, unless you wish me to use Veritaserum, Albus?"

"What?! On students? Albus, I don't think-"

"Hmm, that will be unnecessary, Severus, thank you. Minerva, what of young Hermione's interactions with Harry?"

"As far as I know, they are still avoiding each other. What does that have to do with-"

"Thank you, Minerva, Severus. Sherbert lemons?"

¤

Rushing, rushing, rushing. Blood pulsed and danced in his ears a Voldemort drummed his fingers on the chair where he sat. Wand in hand, he listened as yet another anonymous mask reported the outcome of their assignment.

Anger colored his vision red.

"Failure," he hissed. The Death Eater scrambled back in hopes of avoiding punishment. Sneering, Voldemort ignored him to search out his inner circle. Feral eyes watched from the corner, but his anger was focused and disregarded them.

"Amycus! Where are the wands I sent you for?"

The masked figure came forward, dropping to his knees in subjugation.

"I-I am sorry, my lord. The French wandmaker has closed her shop, and no other supplier had the proper materials. I tried Germany, but-"

Fury pulsed again, and Voldemort felt another slice of himself slip away, lost to madness once more.

"Failure," he hissed, "again. All of you failures!" before he realized what he'd done, Voldemort pushed out of his chair and pointed his wand at Amycus Carrow; the tip swirling with a sickly green miasma.

A ripple of terror ran through the watching Death Eaters. Their lord tortured, he berated and ridiculed, but the only ones he murdered were enemies and traitors.

Never his followers.

"_Avada-_"

Before the spell sent death flying, their Lord fell. His head hit the ground with a crack and his wand went flying to the opposite wall. A wave of gasps went through the Lord's loyal followers once again, as a shadowy figure with a naked chest stood above their lord. Golden eyes full of danger sent the followers skittering further back.

"**Leave,**" the man growled, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. Finally the panic set, as every single Death Eater in the room turned and ran for the door or Apparated away, their minds too focused on getting to a safe place to worry about the man who'd just saved them or what he would do to their lord.

* * *

A/N: I really have to say that I'm surprised Harry's plan worked so well, even on the readers:D Congrats to the few who picked up on the numerous clues last chapter. I've been wanting to write this part of the plot for so long! On the other hand, another cliffie! Enjoy and please review. 


	13. Madness in Love

_"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." _

**Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

Harry woke to a pulse.

_Rage. Anger. The smallest trace of terror._

He gasped, slapping a hand to his forehead as another wave of fury threatened to overwhelm him. He'd kept the link open the last few weeks, trusting Tom not to hurt him, but this..

'_Tom?'_

Harry received no answer, instead picking up _AvadaKedavraAvadaKedavraAvadaKedavraAvadaKedavra _in mindless repetition, filtered through a dark growl that frightened him as much as it confused him. Another, more familiar voice called so thinly Harry could barely hear it…_Nonononononononono…_

Before he even realized what he was doing Harry leapt from the bed, disregarding his sweat-filmed body and Letalis' disturbed hiss. Every shard of his intuition was screaming at him to _move_, to get to Tom before he did something irreparable. In a last ditch effort before he Flicked, his magic surged to lengthen his hair, trying to prevent recognition.

Everything was wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

The sound of a hundred hearts clashed with erratic breathing in his ears. The heavy scent of terror overlaid the death that glowed suffocating at the end of Tom's wand. Harry had no time to think, only react.

In one swift movement he grabbed Tom's arm, jerking the wand out of his hand and sending it away. Then he shoved, sending Tom to the floor with a crash that reverberated through the hall. Harry met his love's eyes for a single moment - full of anger and the glint of insanity that he was growing so increasingly familiar with.

He jerked Tom's arms above his head, using his vampiric strength to overpower someone for the first time and keep his love held down. It took mere seconds for all of it to happen, and when Harry felt sure that Tom was secure he looked up at the Death Eaters. They'd frozen, especially the one whom Tom had been about to kill. If they remained here, immobile as they were, Harry would never be able to calm the dark lord down.

As he glared at them all, Harry could've sworn he heard the gasp of a female voice, "Aspen…Noir?" All thoughts ground to a halt as he zeroed in on the short woman who uttered his name. But there was no time for this - he _had _to get them out of here.

"**Leave!**" Harry nearly snarled at the Death Eaters. His voice held a surprising amount of command for one in such a desperate position. Harry nearly slumped in relief as they fled without hesitation, self-preservation being their most basic instinct.

Tom hissed and struggled underneath his captor, cursing vehementally, -I will kill them! Failuresss, all of them…-

"Tom!" Harry called, frantic to bring an ounce of recognition to the eyes of his love even as he pressed the man harder to the floor. Tom didn't react, his red eyes darting to look anywhere but Harry and his lips curling as he spewed obscenities. Harry had no idea what to do; he'd never dealt with anything like the before. Desperately, recklessly, the vampire sat on the man's stomach a pressed a hasty kiss to Tom's serpentine mouth.

Instantly the man became inert, all words grinding to a halt but not returning the kiss. The instant Harry pulled away Tom's entire body went limp. Glassy crimson eyes blinked and cleared. Hesitantly, Harry eased his grip on the other's arms, waiting for his heart to start again.

"Tom." This time when he spoke Tom's eyes snapped to meet Harry's, hairless brows drawing together in what Harry suddenly realized was pain.

-Aspen…- Tom answered after what seemed an eternity. The vampire could have sobbed in relief, choosing instead to press their mouths together again as he poured his emotions through the link in their minds. Tom reciprocated this time, neither noticing that Harry was still pinning Tom's arms to the ground. The Dark Lord sent torrential emotions back - the lingering residue of his fit of anger, his rising fear at the growing madness inside of him, and his uncontrollable urge to hold Harry close and never let him go, not when the lunacy could strike again at any minute.

One hand trailed down Tom's chest, questioning without words.

'_The Horcruxes…so long without my soul complete is driving me to madness. I fear that it will soon consume me. I need the ritual - I was too blind to see before,'_ Tom's mental voice lay heavy on his mind, sinking into the cracks even as heat built in their kiss. Tom's hands slipped under his fingers, wrapping around Harry's waist and tugging him down so he was no longer sitting but suddenly laying on Tom's chest.

'_Aspen…Harry…'_

Harry jerked at the last word… Tom never addressed him by his birth name…Whether it was a product of their years as enemies or simply familiarity with his chosen name, he hadn't heard Tom call him Harry since the Department of Mysteries. It was strange but not unwelcome. "Tom?"

Through the link Harry caught the flash of a serpent's head, spouting painful words more poisonous than any venom, _-He will leave you forever…-_

"Don't leave me, Assspen."

Harry breath caught in his throat, but his shock was quickly wiped away. He lay with the broken man on the cold stone floor, breathing in Tom's hurt and kissing his neck with a faint graze of his teeth.

"Never, Tom."

* * *

"Amycus."

Hearing his name, Amycus looked up at the hunched form of his twin sister as she pulled off her bone white mask. Black beady eyes stared at him from her round face, and Amycus could already see her rusty Ravenclaw intelligence going to work.

"Amycus, tell me I wasn't hallucinating and that man was who I thought he was."

Stripping off the black robes as well, Amycus set them aside on the couch. Alecto shifted impatiently as he pondered a response.

"There's no way you can't have recognized him - his face is unmistakable! Why was he there?! How-" she was cut off as a flash of heat ripped through their Marks. Both froze, waiting. But there was no follow-up.

"Calm down, Alecto. It's not a summons..." Amycus wondered just how many Death Eaters would be brave enough to go back there with their lord in such a mood; especially after what had nearly been done to him. The Slytherin's thoughts were interrupted when Alecto threw her stumpy arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

"He saved us again," she whispered, her voice tinged with no small amount of awe, "Merlin, Amycus, we owe him a double life-debt now!" Still shell-shocked, Amycus nodded numbly.

Aspen Noir was an unforgettable character, especially when he'd saved your life as a small child. Noir was infamous in the Carrow's time at Hogwarts for being the only person to get close to Tom Riddle; the only person Riddle _let_ close to him. It was especially easy to remember Noir when he'd saved their lives - defenseless First Years in the face of Grindelwald's followers - and then they'd seen him die, struck down to inexplicable ash by the Killing Curse.

Perhaps the reason they'd followed the Dark Lord all these years was because they understood him. Tom Riddle had lost his life that day as well, and Alecto and Amycus were unable to keep their unanticipated savior from his doom. The young children instead turned their attention to Tom Riddle, determined to repay their debt the best way they knew how.

Alecto had let go of him by then, busily magicking numerous books from the shelves that filled their small house. Once the space had been shared with Amycus' wife, but she'd died in the dragon pox epidemic thirty years ago.

"How is he here? How is this possible? We both saw him die…that was so long ago. Why hasn't he aged? Noir looks exactly the same!" papers and books flurried about her as she rifled through them. While a weak spell caster, Alecto was excellent at any sort of research. It annoyed Amycus, however, since she had the tendency to ramble her thoughts out loud. "It isn't possible for a Killing Curse to send someone through time, only for it to kill. Could it have been anything but an Avada Kedavra? No, no, that can't be… there's no other spell that color…"

Finally pulling himself together enough to form coherent thoughts, Amycus finally drawled, "The big thing is that he's here, eh? We're bludgeoning well alive, and Noir's to thank for it."

That gave Alecto pause as they both measured the ramifications. Life-debts were still to be paid...

"Garn, I'm still bloody glad he got there in time!

* * *

All things considered, that had been a rather…interesting first experience of a Death Eater meeting, Remus thought as he ran through the dense forest alongside the rest of his pack. They were on their way back to the sheltered alcove that the resourceful werewolves had turned into a thriving village set deep in the forest, away from the stunted view of wizard kind.

The meeting had started out rather mundane, with reports from masked figures on the state of the Ministry, on recruits, on alliances. Other than Voldemort's overuse of the Cruciatus, there was very little to note. It was more annoying to Remus than anything, seeing how utterly inept the Death Eaters appeared to be. Was this what he had signed up for?

He supposed that it hadn't lasted very long, but every moment that had gone by had only served to agitate him more and cause Moony to stir beneath the surface. The scent of pain had increased with every passing minute, testing Remus' already shot sense of control. The weeks spent with Fenrir and his pack had stretched him thin, and the overdose of extreme emotions was calling his feral side to the fore.

The fear had reached a crescendo as it had happened; the scent of bitter decay nearly overwhelming him. He had never smelt anything like it, not even remotely. Suddenly, the room had been saturated in the stench of death, and Remus had caught sight of the glowing green tip of Voldemort's wand.

_Avada Kedavra_. Remus was a learned man, having traveled Europe in his pursuits as he had tried to drown the pain of the loss of all his friends. And of course he knew the Unforgivables, from the reaction of the body to the curse, to its color, to the mechanics of its casting. But theoretical knowledge was very different from actually witnessing the most feared curse in existence.

Had the situation been any different, Remus was sure he would have retched. Had his sense of self preservation been any less, he would have leapt at Voldemort in hopes of stopping the vile curse, saving them all from the disgusting manifestation of repugnancy!

Then a new scent that appeared had pierced the tense atmosphere, a recently familiar aura of power washing over his senses. By the jolt of shock that had gone through the nearly panicking Death Eaters, he was sure the feeling had been strong enough for even the humans to feel, whether they recognized it for what it was or not. Suddenly Harry was there, taking control of the situation with a frightening deific presence, ordering the room empty as he had pinned the most powerful Dark Lord in five centuries beneath him, effectively stopping the vile curse and clearing the air. Just thinking of it sent chills down Remus' spine and made rage curdle in his stomach.

What in Merlin's name had Harry been thinking, throwing caution to the wind and trying to forcibly restrain _Voldemort_ of all people? Had Remus been wrong in thinking that Harry had grown past the need to be supervised? Because, honestly, who was that stupid? Remus seethed and Moony's protective instincts wrapped around him, fuelling his anger. He had given the young vampire the benefit of the doubt in his relationship with Voldemort, but was Harry actually safe with that… that… madman?

But he had to remind himself Harry wasn't under his guardianship and never had been. As much as he wanted to shake his cub and ask just _what the hell_ was going through his head, Remus had to remember these were _Harry's_ choices. Besides, Harry was too much like Lily, determined to get his own way.

Remus breathed out heavily as a howl alerted them that those in the front had reached Måneshire, and suddenly the tension was easing from his veins. He had come to regard the lean-to village as a haven in the last weeks, and its setting seemed to exude calmness, for him and for the other werewolves. Already he could feel the angry emotions dwindling, and clothes were falling away even before the buildings were in sight as the werewolves stripped off the garb they wore to prevent offence to the wizards. Remus had learned very quickly that the werewolves of this community cared little about modesty in such a sanctuary as this.

Fenrir lagged until he was beside Remus and flashed him a grin, chuckling amusedly. "Lost in thought again, cub?"

Remus blushed for no discernable reason, cursing himself for the weakness, "Just thinking about our new Lord."

"Ah…" Fenrir leaned toward him without breaking his stride and pinched his buttocks. Remus yelped, tripping over his own feet and Fenrir laughed, speeding up. "You worry too much, Remus. Let yourself _relax_ once in a while, won't you?"

Remus scowled, but couldn't deny the blush that still burnt his cheeks or the foreign trembling of his heart. Contemplations on Voldemort faded away with a last thought that Harry had better know what he was doing.

* * *

Harry felt an uncomfortable stirring in his stomach, one that wasn't entirely his hunger for blood. No matter how he suppressed it, he couldn't fight the guilt he felt at leaving Tom all alone back in the manor. When they'd finally moved from the hall Tom seemed to lose all strength in his limbs. Harry'd had to carry him, laying his partner down on his bed and wishing beyond all hope that he had access to a time turner…Harry hadn't wanted to leave; Tom was more important than school would ever be, but the dark lord still convinced him, coercing Harry with the fact that Dumbledore was suspicious enough without Harry missing another day of school. Harry barely restrained himself from cracking Tom's ribs as he clung to him, reluctant to let him go. Only the man's promise to remain abed all day soothed his nerves the slightest amount.

Harry growled as he swept down the hall, his hunger only increasing his irritation. In light of recent events he kept putting off taking his blood potion, too busy with other things to even attend to the thought of it. Now his carelessness was taking its toll - Harry still had two more excruciating hours of Defense before he could return to the dorms and find time to drink in peace.

Snape droned on, his low, captivating voice nearly lulling Harry to sleep despite his whirling emotions and the throbbing need to drink. Harry let the monotone wash over him in an attempt to calm down, barely hearing a word Snape said.

Why in the hell was he still here? What was the point anymore? With Ron safely in Tom's manor, Harry's reasons for staying at Hogwarts were narrowed to none. Only Tom's insistence that it would be too much of a disruption for him to pull out now kept him here. It was agitating, Harry thought, hand moving to disrupt his short hair. Yes, the sudden defection of the Boy-Who-Lived would set the Wizarding world on edge. Yes, that would put a very large rift in Tom's plans to take over the ministry. He understood that. It was ideal that the ministry stayed as ill-informed and incompetent as it was now for the takeover to go smoothly. He supposed Tom had a point, really, but he hated that it chained him to this damned place.

"Potter, you would do well to pay attention. Perhaps your dubious celebrity was enough to get the marks in past years, but I fear it will not be enough this time."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the interruption of his thoughts, eyes darting to the sneering Professor. He barely resisted rolling his eyes at the man, exasperated to have his quiet contemplation interrupted. He gritted his teeth and lowered his eyes apologetically. "Sorry, sir."

Peering through his lashes, he barely caught the flash of indignation cross Snape's face. Apparently, he didn't like Harry backing down. "Why don't you tell the class about what you would do if you encountered a Lethifold? That is, if it hadn't already eaten you."

Harry smiled thinly, "Well, sir, I am quite sure that won't be a problem. I don't like the heat, so I'm highly unlikely to encounter one. Really, should you be worrying about this, either? I don't see you as the sunbathing type. Merlin help us all if you were."

Snape was trembling in fury now, and Harry let the vindictive pleasure coarse through him. That had felt good. "Get out, Potter!"

"Gladly."

Harry rose and made his way to the door, feeling quite a bit better than he had a minute or two ago. In the last row, he caught guarded silver eyes that narrowed dangerously, and Draco stood as well. "Professor? I need to use the restroom."

Snape gave a searching look to Draco and apparently liked what he saw. He nodded before a small smirk twitched on his lips. "Hurry back, Mr. Malfoy."

"Of course, sir."

Harry felt Draco following him and sped up his steps, really not wanting to deal with this right now.

"Potter! Slow down!"

Harry did no such thing, but chanced a glance over his shoulder. "This is a very bad time, Malfoy."

"I don't give a niffler's arse what you want, Potter! You've been avoiding me _again_!"

Harry sighed in agitation and spun on his heel, almost causing Draco to run headlong into him. Harry cast an obscure version of the Muffliato spell, considered Dark simply because of the consequences to anyone trying to listen in. Draco startled as it surrounded them, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Harry simply stared back at the blond. "Well? Say whatever you have to say and be done with it. I don't have time for you."

Draco's mulish expression faded to one of irritated superiority. "What has been up your arse these last few weeks? First you tell me that you're allied with the _Dark Lord_, then you totally avoid me. Again."

"I've been busy," Harry frowned and looked away. "The loss of my friend…"

"Oh, don't start on that. If you're really Dark, he wouldn't have been killed. Next excuse, Potter?"

Anger built up in Harry's chest, and he sneered venomously. "Didn't I tell you that you were on your own? My obligations to you are done, Malfoy. Don't act like you're entitled."

Draco's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. "It is my business when I've got every newspaper in Wizarding Britain slandering me! They say we're involved!"

"Like I care what the papers say," Harry drawled. Really, _this_ was Draco's biggest complaint?

"That's just it! You don't care! I'd think… ugh, you don't _actually_ fancy me, do you Potter?"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. Long and loudly, if not a bit hysterically, so much that he had to brace his forearm against the cool stone of the hallway wall to ride out the waves of true hilarity. Draco just looked more offended by the minute, glaring indolently with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked a bit like an overgrown toddler, and it only added to Harry's mirth.

"Shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry, but that was hilarious. No, Draco, I have no interest in you whatsoever. If I did, you would be dead right now."

"And just why," Draco was attempting a sneer now, but it looked more like a pout, "Would that be?"

Harry smirked, a slow, vicious thing as he stood straight. "Because I am in a very serious relationship with a man named Tom Riddle. And he would kill you if he thought there was a chance of you taking me away. Do you know that name?"

Draco shook his head slowly, expression melting to confusion.

Harry flicked his wand to remove the silencing spell and began walking back down the hall. He wanted to get to his room, already, and take his potion. Just before he turned the corner, Harry glanced back over his shoulder, smirk still present. "He also goes by Voldemort. That name ring a bell?"

Harry's laughter echoed off the walls as he left a very dumbfounded Draco Malfoy sputtering to himself in an empty hallway. The afternoon hadn't turned out so badly, after all.

* * *

A/N: YOU MUST ALL THANK EMPY-CHAN FOR YOUR SOULS…or at least for this story continuing. I got very frustrated with several parts and considered going on hiatus, but EmpyrealFantasy kindly helped by writing several scenes with my input. Usually I consider 13 to be a lucky number, but when it comes to writer's block this wasn't so…

On another note, thanks for the 1000 reviews! Although I didn't get many last chapter, I am grateful to every one of my readers who takes the time to leave a comment or two. Thank you very much!


	14. Unable to Dream of Heaven

_"-What power would hell have if those imprisoned here would not be able to dream of heaven?"_

**Sandman, by Neil Gaiman**

* * *

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood drove itself into his ears, causing Voldemort to wince. He _desperately _wanting to throw this hellish book away from him but not being able to.

"_How possible it is to become complete again? …but all sins are paid for dearly with remorse. These magicks are beyond the dark, deep into evil, and shall be repented with pain that may destroy you." _

_Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ seemed to leer at him, mocking his inability to express his frustration. Everything felt so _desperate_ all of a sudden; Voldemort couldn't stand the anguish that gripped his heart so suddenly, crushing and vice-like. He wanted to tear those pages apart, burn them, destroy them... but he couldn't. Not when they contained the only formula for the salvation of his mind, the only possibility to salvage his psyche from being slowly being ripped to shreds in the grasp of madness. But it was a formula he would never be able to complete; the last ingredient could never be acquired and his sanity would soon be lost…

An infuriated snarl twisted his alabaster face into an expression far uglier than the original, and in a fit of anger Voldemort snatched the book to throw across the room. The book was saved when a strong hand caught his wrist and another plucked the tome from his too-long fingers.

"Tom? Are alright? What…what is this?"

Voldemort's fury faded quickly as he turned and Aspen's face filled his vision. As the Dark Lord relaxed the young man's grip slipped away and the older sank into the chair, watching the vampire. He felt almost embarrassed that Aspen had caught him like this again - in the grasp of rage and not in full control of himself. Where had his iron will disappeared so quickly?

The young man's eyes were riveted on the open page of the book in his hand. "This is…"

"Yes," the Dark Lord answered, his voice flat as his heated emotions drained away. Aspen's golden gaze fixed on Voldemort, eyes widening as light dawned within them.

"You…you're going to go through with this, really?" the sudden hope in the other's voice made the Dark Lord want to scream and shout and rip things apart with the Darkest of curses until the turmoil of his own emotions settled. Instead of any of those, he reached out and pulled Aspen close until he nearly stood on top of his lap.

-This started long before the Horcruxes, Assspen. The day you died was the day I my mind stared to slip, but I did not care any longer. You weren't there.- Voldemort met the vampire's eyes with his own crimson as he spoke, trying to convey everything he left unspoken to the other. "I created the Horcruxes uncaring for my sanity, only seeking the power to be gained. I had nothing to lose but wasted opportunity." He smiled grimly. "And then you appear again, just as my mind prepares shatter. And now what, Aspen? What is immortality when I cannot spend forever with the one I love? What is living for years on end in a body that can hardly please you? What is the resolve to put myself back together when I am unable because I'm missing one…blasted…ingredient?!" Voldemort fluctuated between Parseltongue and English, reflecting how little control he had left.

"Tom…" Aspen's voice shook, and it was obvious that he had no idea what question to address first. Voldemort didn't give the boy a chance, pulling him into a fierce kiss that was all teeth and tongues and fire. The man fought the urge to cling to him when Aspen finally pulled away, but restrained himself.

"…What ingredient are you missing?" the tentative tone of the question forced Voldemort to stare at him, quite suddenly forced to realize just how young and exhausted his love was. The past nights had been just as hard on Aspen as they had been on him, and the Dark Lord had no need to burden the young man further.

"Dementor blood," he finally answered. "I cannot get any because it isn't part of my agreement with them. They offer their service in return for souls, not their blood…" He raised a hand to touch the other's cheek, stroking it with his bony fingers. Another glance at the dark rings under the boy's eyes made him speak again, "Aspen, go to bed." Aspen's eyebrow's rose, not comprehending what he meant. "You're exhausted and you shouldn't… shouldn't have come tonight. Please…leave. Get some sleep."

Aspen seemed about to protest, but Voldemort gave him best firm look he could manage at the moment and the boy finally acquiesced, face still slightly bemused by the whole situation.

"Good...night," he said reluctantly, and as Voldemort watched his face disappeared from under his hand. Voldemort sank back and sighed, overcome and ashamed.

* * *

Molly Weasley took a moment to wipe her face, sending a glare at the once again dusty glass case in the corner. No matter how many times she worked to empty that particular cupboard, all the nasty Dark artifacts would return within a week. Eventually she'd given up after finding out there was no way to break the Recalling charm. Even now she could remember the first attempt to clean the cupboard, when Harry and Ron were still-

The matron let go of the thought with a huff and turned back to her cleaning. These days the only thing that kept her from breaking down again was a constant need to work. Molly was so single-minded in her effort that the Burrow was sparkling within a week. Her family was forced to take a step back as she swept about like a whirlwind. When the mother was finally forced to concede there was nothing more to clean, she set her sights on Grimmauld Place; the building had fallen back into disrepair since the Order stopped meeting regularly there. For some reason the wards on the building were reluctant to let them in, resulting in Mad-Eye Moody becoming the only regular resident of the Ancient House of Black. Dumbledore hadn't told them why as of yet - in fact, Dumbledore hadn't even told her how Harry was holding up, when he _knew_ she considered him almost a seventh son…

Molly's hand clenched about her wand as she directed various sponges and water-buckets along their duties. She didn't want any thoughts that could depress her at the moment, nothing that would remind her of her dead child, or the fact that any member of her precious family could be lost at any moment despite the protection of the head of the Light. _No_, she blocked out her traitorous thoughts and set back to cleaning.

* * *

_Green eyes narrowed predatorily, accented by a face that dripped crimson. Suddenly the green melted away to move to the man's wand, which glowed with horrendous light. The girl held back her gasp as verdant orbs faded to gold - terrifying gold. The man's face was like stone as he slaughtered countless wizards. Bullets fell about him, repelled by a shield of dim light. The unmistakable crash of a bomb sounded in the distance, sending out a shockwave that sent all but the man and the girl tumbling off their feet. A choked gasp from the girl rent the air as the killer used the opportunity to send out a dark spell that impaled the heart of every enemy wizard. Still his face remained empty, expressionless as he exerted his merciless massacre._

_Until everyone but the man and the girl were dead, and the girl watched the man turn away to face someone else - a man with ruby eyes, pale skin, and a tall frame that swayed when he walked - and the killer smiled, bright and untarnished by the ghastly deed he'd just performed. The girl choked, knowing the second man - Lord Voldemort, most feared Dark Lord - and despite his change of appearance, knowing the first man for who he was; a lightning bolt scar still blazed upon his forehead. _

_This was the future of one Harry Potter, one who had not been stopped, one who she'd seen in these moments countless times before…_

_A hand clapped her shoulder and spun her about, bringing her face to face with accusing blue eyes that glared at her like chips of ice. "It's your fault, you know. If you'd told someone about how evil he would become, I wouldn't be dead!" his voice shrieked in her ears, sending a pounding ache through her skull and tears to her eyes._

"_I'm sorry, sorry, Ron! I tried to warn you, you wouldn't listen-"_

"_Not good enough! You're not stupid, you should've taken this to Dumbledore right away! Or," his eyes narrowed slyly, a look Ron had never donned in life, "_are_ you stupid and didn't want anyone to know? Do you think he'll dismiss your dreams as a whiny girl's fancies? Because that's what you are, a whiny girl."_

"_But-" she whimpered._

"_I see it now," the redhead looked at the two killers, both frozen in time as they spoke. "Really, you're just a bossy, whiny girl who's trying to make her way to the top using her friends. I'm glad we broke up before I died," he sneered. Then he started walking toward the killers and the girl, sensing his intent, threw out a hand to stop him just as he had to her so those months ago._

"_No, please, you're wrong! Please Ron, I know I said some bad things, but look at what our friend is going to become! Please, you have to help me stop him-"_

"_Stop him? Stop him?! I wouldn't stop him…if I were alive, I'd help him! You don't know anything, always with your nose so far in a book that you can't see the issues of the real world. You have no idea _why_ he's doing this. You don't deserve to call him a friend if you refuse to listen." Ronald wrenched from her grasp and strode away. _

"_Ron, please-"_

"_Save it, Hermione."_

Hermione awoke with a strangled cry, sitting up so swiftly she nearly tumbled from her bed. She lay back down quickly and pressed her face to a pillow, trying to stifle her choked sobs. '_Damn him_.'

Damn Harry Potter for taking away what she most cared for.

* * *

Deep red curtains shrouded Harry Potter, protecting him from the sight of his nosy dormmates, though that protection was strengthened with security spells and wards woven into the cloth. The room was fairly quiet, peaceable even as the low drone of snores filtered through heavy fabric. Harry couldn't enjoy the quiet, though. He lay awake and staring at the ceiling restlessly, and he wished above all else that he was back at the manor with Tom now. Harry turned on his side, clutching his yew wand tightly to his chest. He felt horrible for leaving Tom when the man was so upset, but the lord had nearly forced him to leave - there was nothing Harry could do.

Dementor blood. The vampire ran a finger down his wand…a black occamy feather, vampire fangs, and Dementor blood were all ingredients in the core of his wand. Harry hadn't even been able to mention it before Tom forced him away, but he also knew from his short glance at the book that his wand contained less than a fourth of the needed component, and that was assuming the blood was uncontaminated by the other constituents, which it wasn't; Harry sighed, thinking back on the day when he'd gotten the wand. Did the lady - Michelle, his mind supplied - own any more blood?

"_I received this from a Chinese man a few years ago.."_

No, she'd talked of the bottle in singular form, and Harry hadn't seen a sign of another bottle lying about the dark shop. The longer Harry thought on it, the more he though he was missing something - something important and long-forgotten.

_Dusty panes of glass…ornate silver boxes inscribed with strange runes…_

Dim memories started to filter through to him and Harry grasped at them, feeling a sudden spark of recognition.

_Coiling snakeskin…claws…daggers rusted from flecks of gore…and a bottle with an opal stopper, swishing with dark liquid that looked suspiciously like blood and made him shiver when he brushed it…_

Harry sprang up with a gasp. '_That's it!_' Cleaning out the drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry had inadvertently come across a bottle of strange blood he hadn't recognized at the time; distilled Dementor blood. Another memory from late that year came rushing in - one of Mrs. Weasley's complaints about the Recalling charm on all the cabinets, and how she had to be satisfied with simply locking all the dangerous objects up since even the Aurors were unable to confiscate them.

"And if I can figure out how to break the charm…" In a single motion Harry leapt out of bed to pull his trousers back on, tucking his wand away. Soon, Tom would be whole again - Harry swore it to himself.

* * *

Harry tucked his cloak tighter around himself, trying to fight of the chill of winter in vain. Snow hadn't fallen yet, but he knew it would be coming soon from the cast in the sky earlier that day. Shivering, he shrunk further into the shadow of a nearby building, shielding himself from the sight of anyone who might happen to peak out a window of the building that suddenly seemed to unfold across the street. Harry waved his yew wand.

"_Homenum revelio."_ The spell's magic poured out of him, sweeping the premises of the Noble House of Black. No signs of human life. Harry made his way up to the door and cautiously turned the handle - the gray, uninviting wood swung open with ease. The air was heavy with dust; had no one been in here for so long? But no, he recognized very faint signs of inhabitation, though they looked to be several days old, at least. Harry was apprehensive because Grimmauld Place was the headquarters for the Order, but none of the members were present for a meeting or even to guard, which surprised him. Still, not being one to look a gift thestral in the mouth, he made his way in and crept past dingy curtains that covered the portrait of the ugly Walburga. Harry grimaced, remembering her younger years dating Orion Black; truly, the decades had not been kind to her, and Harry didn't look forward to meeting her under his current visage - that of Aspen Noir - on the off chance that she would recognize him. Keeping this in mind, the young, naïve vampire hurried upstairs without another thought to the entrance he'd just passed through.

The moment Harry opened the drawing room door his nose was assaulted by odor - dust, Doxy pesticide, and the unmistakable scent of active Dark magic that Harry had grown acclimated to in his short sojourns at Tom's hideaway. His eyes automatically sped across the room, his feet not far behind. The silver latch flipped open easily under Harry's fingers and he detected the barest tingle of a ward dispelling. The Recalling charm?

"Maybe it's keyed to wizards who've used Dark magic?" he muttered aloud. in the Black house he wouldn't be surprised, and that would explain why the Order's attempts to remove the items were futile. Harry's fingers traced the dust on panes of glass as the cabinet doors opened easily. There was everything exactly as he remembered it, though one of the mysterious silver boxes had a dent in it from where a clumsy person (probably Tonks) had dropped it. Then there was the crystal vial, glinting even in the dim lighting. Harry almost crowed in triumph as he confirmed his hope that the liquid inside was Dementor blood, or at least looked like it. There would be no way to know for sure until he could test it and show it to Tom.

As Harry's hand closed around the vial he heard a soft whisper - before his side exploded in pain.

* * *

Moody knew from the moment his wards on the front door of Number 12 went off that something big was going to happen. Wooden foot silenced, the retired hit-Auror adjusted his grip on his wand as he watched the man rooting through the cabinet with his magical eye. Moody had no idea what the man was here for, but he was determined to find out - after the man's capture. The grizzled man nearly gasped when he caught the flash of nails - too long for a human. Vampire then, for the moon was full tonight and a werewolf wouldn't be in a humanoid form. Mad-Eye grinned at the prospect of interrogating the vampire - non-humans were always the most interesting. He had to wait, though. He'd only get one strike in surprise, if he remembered his other encounters with Vampire-kind correctly.

Moody had never been known for his patience. As soon as he saw the vampire relax its guard, he struck the humanoid with a powerful Blasting curse. Mad-Eye's cry of victory was drowned out by the vampire's shriek of pain as it clutched at the gaping hole in its side, ignoring the blood that suddenly painted the walls to spin toward Moody. Mad-Eye limped forward, wand raised to the face of the creature as he caught a glimpse of ghastly golden eyes and sharp menacing fangs.

Then the figure melted away before his very eyes, untraceable to even his magical eye. Illusion? The old Auror eyed the red copper coating that dripped from the wall and cabinet, assuring him that the vampire had been real.

"Damn it!" Moody roared. He'd had a cornered vampire wounded and on its knees and it had escaped! Worse yet, he had no idea what it'd taken. So much for constant vigilance.

* * *

Harry bit back a gasp when his hand contacted his side. Warm liquid cascaded like a river from the hole in his left side, and he knew it was only his lack of humanity that kept him going for even these few seconds. He was losing certain body parts that _really_ oughtn't to be lost. They dropped to the floor with sickening soggy noises, and he didn't dare to look back to identify them.

_The mortal wounds are the ones that don't hurt._

All he'd been able to think of was getting away from Moody to somewhere safe. Harry'd had no time to get a lock on where he was Flicking to.

His heart slowed with every driven beat as his blood spilled onto the floor. It was putting up no fight to endure. Already, his vampiric body was shutting down in preparation for healing. He finally reached his destination and pulled open the door in a heavy final effort.

A sea of black mantles and bone white faces turned to him, but it was the red-eyed figure on the dais that held his blurred gaze.

Harry collapsed against the door while trying to hold his side in with both hands. He'd stopped breathing some time ago.

Useless. Blood still splashed with every movement.

"T-Tom," Harry rasped.

His legs finally buckled and the earth gave way.

* * *

'_He's not going to die. He can't die!'_ his mind chanted as he raced toward the boy. None of the Death Eaters saw their lord move; he appeared to Apparate straight to the spot. Voldemort's breath caught in a gasp as Aspen fell into his arms. Blood gushed all over his hands as his love's body crumpled completely against him.

'_No, he's immortal! He can't die, can't die-'_ Voldemort tried to calm his panicking mind, to think clearly.

"_Fascia!_" he incanted. A large bandage shot from his wand, wrapping Aspen's torso tightly to temporarily keep blood and other…things, inside. The Death Eaters took up whispering, finally recognizing the boy from _that night_, the one who'd stopped their lord's angry rampage. Who was he?

Voldemort paid them no mind, physically picking Aspen up instead, afraid that a spell might somehow damage the young man. His mind raced to decipher a solution to what was happening, but his mind was already clouding with anger at the perpetrator of this crime. He shook it away.

'_Focus! Aspen needs blood - human blood. He's immortal, he can't die, calm down. My blood's no good - hardly human… Need someone I can trust, or use and dispose of,'_ he didn't want to expose Aspen's identity yet. Voldemort raked his followers with his gaze until he alighted on a slightly taller figure than the majority. _'The backstabber…use him for Aspen then kill him.'_

At this point his body was operating on its own, almost leaving the room of it's own accord, -Ssseverusss!- the Dark Lord called over his shoulder. Starting, the masked figure followed obediently and the crowd parted for him. With a final heft, Voldemort hurried to set his love to rights, before madness overtook him again.

* * *

Severus felt a dart of fear the moment the Dark Lord called his name, recognizing it even with the change in language; Snape had heard it far too many times not to. Whenever the lord slipped into Parseltongue, he was on the edge of torturing his followers for hours on end until his rage was sated. Still Severus followed, the Death Eaters moving out of his way almost as a sign of final respects. He sneered in disgust under the cover of his mask. If Severus was finally going to die by his cruel master's hand, he didn't need the pity of these mongrel fools. Living like this was hardly worth the effort anyway, and Severus was starting to wonder if he should even try.

The Dark Lord practically flew down the corridors even with the large weight in his arms. Severus forcefully squashed his curiosity about the mysterious man in favor of running to keep up. His intelligent mind was going a hundred kilometers a minute trying to figure out what his lord would need from him. The Dark Lord led them far deeper into the manor than he'd ever been, even to deliver potions for the lord's cause.

Finally they came to what were unmistakably the Dark Lord's private quarters. Severus stopped by the door, hesitant to remind his lord that he was present as the man set his cargo tenderly on the bed, the other man's anger seeming to dissipate suddenly. Behind the blood-spattered features Snape could finally get his first good look at the prone figure. Exceedingly pale skin, long black-red hair…it was all too easy to see the person wasn't human, not counting the way he'd looked the night he stopped the Dark Lord's attack.

But on closer examination, Snape could see that the male was nearly a boy - so unmistakably young that he could be Hogwarts age! The startling thought made Severus forget himself for one detrimental moment and gasp quietly in surprise. It was a terrible mistake, for Dark Lord finally remembered his presence and spun toward the oily man, his wand pulled and under Severus' chin before the potions master had time to so much as twitch. Red eyes glared into his, edged with anger and daring him to move lest the powerful lord before him break his mind for his temerity.

"You will ask no questions," the wand dug into the base of his neck, "I know where your loyalties lie, Severusssss, and if you do not follow every command without hesitation, I will rip out your throat and feed it to him myself."

Severus' gaze flicked to the boy on the bed before the yew wand pushed painfully into an artery. Snape felt a lance of fear rush through him which he quickly tried to hide. What sort of person would have the Dark Lord so worked up over their near death?

"Do you underssstand?" in all his years as a spy and Death eater, Snape had never heard the Dark Lord's voice so menacing, or containing that hint of desperation that told him the lord would follow through without a moment's hesitation if he even thought of disobeying.

"Y-yes," Severus bit out.

"Good, then you will _kindly _donate your blood." Before he realized it, a cold hand clamped around Severus' wrist and dragged him to the bedside. Severus went temporarily limp with shock, not expecting the cold lord to manhandle him so.

For a ridiculous moment as the Dark Lord shoved Severus' hand towards the figure, he thought the lord was trying to smack the boy with it... Then the ostensibly dead figure started, nostrils flaring and teeth bared with a lust, and the evidence all came together for Severus Snape.

This…this _boy_ was a vampire… A special one, for the Dark Lord to show such attention and obvious care for him. As Severus felt the first mouthful of blood leave to take dominion in the fair vampire on the bed, he cursed his life. How had he gotten into this mess - destined to be sucked dry by some pathetic parasite!? For the billionth time in his life he cursed Dumbledore, Voldemort, James Potter just for the hell of it, and all that had happened through the years to land him in the situation he was currently living out… Hopefully living out... He knew this standing between the lines was going to get him killed someday. He just imagined it would be by Avada Kedavra or torture, not by some bloody sponger feeding off him! Snape grimaced.

In the haze of distraction he didn't even try to fight, Severus did not notice the Dark Lord summoning his wand and potions belt away along with one long silver dagger, completely stripping him of weapons; he was too lost in the feeling of gradual weakening as his blood was drawn away. There was no pleasure in being fed on by a vampire, despite what the rumors said. Just as Severus felt he could take no more, the Dark Lord stuck his fingers into the boy's mouth and pulled the deadly fangs from his flesh.

The moment he was free Severus stumbled away, clutching his slowly oozing wrist. His breath came in shallow gasps, but the Dark Lord ignored him entirely in favor of bending over the boy, who's former pallor was becoming a slightly healthier shade of pale. Snape struggled to control his breathing, loathe to remind the evil lord he was there when he seemed to once again lost in concern. Severus inched his hand toward his wand, his mind tossing together an escape plan that hopefully wouldn't lave him mortally wounded. If he could just heal his wrist and leave without the lord noticing-

All of his hopes were dashed when his hands met an empty wand holster and the door to the room slammed open, accompanied by a loud voice, "What the bloody hell happened to Harry?!"

* * *

A/N: So….sorry for the three month wait? Eheh. Writer's block, lego set, slab, whatever. Citation for quote courtesy of _HevenSentHellBroken_.

Beta Note: EmpyrealFantasy here, fuming with the lot of you. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this scene? Tsurai has been taunting me with this bit here since OCTOBER. I kid you not. She knows this is my scene (if I ever refer to 'the scene', she knows I mean this whole bit) and here she is CUTTING IT OFF. We should all form a lynch mob now. Loyal readers, meet me at the corner of Books and Movies, and we'll talk about how to throttle her. XD


	15. The Most Important Thing

_"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment sacrifice that which we are for what we could become." _

–_**Charles DuBois**_

--

Ron truly didn't approve of Voldemort's habits during the meetings with his followers, but he supposed he couldn't complain. Things had gotten slightly better since Voldemort's breakdown and Harry's subsequent intervention. Harry had asked him to watch the meetings, just in case something happened again and Harry wasn't there to stop it. Merlin knew the Death Eaters were too useless and/or afraid to throw a stunner if their lord started going wonky. Voldemort had reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, on the condition that Ron watch the Death Eaters themselves to pick out which were the most subtle, the best at avoiding any sort of confrontation. They were the followers that Voldemort could use as infiltrators in spy situations, or could already be spies in his ranks themselves.

Normally Ron wasn't very perceptive about matters like that, but when Harry had so cleverly compared the task to chess tactics in a highly convoluted and obscure way that even he hadn't understood, Ron had amazingly latched right on to it.

It was during one of these meetings that he had the chance to see a severely injured Harry Potter stumble into the room from Ron's perch in his usual alcove. Getting out without being noticed wasn't a problem, though getting to Voldemort's private quarters did take some time, as Ron went the wrong way twice.

"What the bloody hell happened to Harry?!"

--

Harry looked up at his teacher as the man sighed and leaned back in his comfortable leather chair. At his questioning gaze, Noir just shook his head and chuckled, a deep resonant sound that never failed to catch Harry's attention.

"I am just contemplating the inevitability of this meeting. Obviously in the future I did not teach you all that you needed to know about our race because I knew I taught it to you before. But I made sure you knew the song, so that you might teach it to me in turn, so I may once again teach it to you…ah, the wiles of Time…"

When Harry blinked at him bemusedly, Noir laughed again.

"Ah, my childe, there is so much yet for you to learn and so much I do not know. I might teach you all about the limitations of our race, our powers, our horrible weakness that comes with the fragility of the human mind as it tries to adjust to living for so many years…" Gold eyes, ever sharp, pierced Harry through. "I might teach you how to react on the day a lower vampire, werewolf, or veela recognizes you for what you truly are: an Ancient being… But I still cannot tell you everything about our race; the beginning of the line traits, or even how we stemmed from a single Ancient mother when the only way to sire a childe is with our life. These are answers I am not meant to know. But perhaps you may seek them out someday from the others of our race. If and when you begin to gain power, they will make themselves known to you," Noir paused, leaning toward Harry at an angle that set his red hair burning in the dim light. "Are you well, Aspen?" he questioned. In that moment Harry became aware of a horrible pain in his stomach that cramped his muscles and prevented speech for the moment. Noir drew closer but stood up, gently carding Harry's hair with a comforting hand.

"I believe it is time for you to wake up."

--

As his gaze slid over red hair and a freckled, panicking face, Severus Snape felt his train of thought come to a screeching halt.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Weasley…was supposed to be dead! Severus had seen the body with his own eyes. He'd been there when Poppy identified it. The boy was not supposed to be moving about, and most definitely not supposed to be here, in the Dark Lord's _headquarters_!

Spy that he was, Severus never allowed shock to rule him for long. As it cleared away, the words of the brat as he stormed in finally registered. Snape's eyes snapped to the face of the vampire he'd just given blood to, everything from the past year coming together with a crash as what he'd been missing all along snapped into focus.

A small part of Severus' mind idly mused that shock-induced cardiac arrest was going to get him long before the Dark Lord did.

--

Harry awoke to the taste of salt and rust on his lips. He licked them tentatively, banishing the sharp taint of sweat and blood. Pain shot through his stomach, reminding Harry where he was and why. The first sight that met his opened eyes was that of Tom's scowling face, directed at his best friend who stood by the door.

"Weasley, what have I told you about barging in here?!"

Ron's ears turned red enough to match his hair. "H-Hey, I was just worried about Harry. I mean, you called Snape and not me- look, he's awake!" he pointed, slightly desperate to direct Tom's ire away from himself. A shift in the corner drew Harry's attention away from the two who turned to look at him. A dark figure loomed against the wall, and Harry was startled to see the sallow face of Hogwarts' potions master.

'What's he doing here?'

Gasping in surprise, Harry started to sit up but the moment he tried, Tom was there and shoving him back down roughly, pinning him to the bed. His red eyes turned so dark it seemed almost as if they were bleeding. Harry knew he was in trouble.

"Do you have any idea," Tom hissed, "what you did to me just now?" Harry gulped. Quite suddenly Tom looked as fearsome as his snakelike exterior normally lent itself to. The man was totally ignoring the other two in the room, forcing Harry to focus totally on him.

Harry hissed as the man's body pressed close to his, "S-sorry, Tom. I-" but the other didn't seem interested in apologies. Tom leaned forward, capturing his lips in a heavy kiss. Harry moaned, arching his back into him, arms wrapping of their own accord around Tom's neck. It was nearly painful and so intense that Harry saw stars behind his eyelids, and he managed to completely forget about their present company until they were interrupted.

"Oh Merlin, YUCK! Do I have to throw cold water on you two?"

Tom jerked away as if he, too, had just remembered the other presences. Recovering as fast as possible, Harry finally got a view of his red-haired friend and Snape, who swallowed, pale and shaking slightly as Harry's gaze landed on him. Tom's hand gripped his shoulder tightly, conveying more of the message he had been trying to pass on through the kiss - one of many emotions.

Harry's attention snapped back to reality when Snape spoke.

"Harry Potter."

The words from the man were so cold and utterly unemotional that Harry was taken aback for a moment. Gone was the glint of ever-present malice in the eyes that flickered from him to Tom and back. As Harry watched, Snape's stone face seemed to crumble as if all the steel and stern mettle had been stolen from him. His voice came to Harry's ears cracked and dry as he said, "With you here, there really is no hope for the Light side, is there?"

At the potion master's words Harry became aware of Tom rising from the bedside and facing Snape head-on. Ron inched out of Tom's line of vision and over to Harry, but the vampire chose to ignore him for the moment in favor of watching the exchange.

The lord's voice came out as a vibrating hiss. "And now comes the choice, Severussss. No longer can you keep a foot in both worlds, straddling the Light and Dark. You must choose." Tom proved without a doubt that a Dark Lord needed no wand in his hand to intimidate. Harry was sure that if the force of Tom's glare were directed at himself in such a way, he would have winced at the menacing look too. Then Tom drew his wand and Harry sucked in a breath as Snape's heartbeat and perspiration leapt and came to his immediate awareness; Harry still very much under the influence of Snape's blood.

"I've known you were a spy all along, Severus; playing a little puppet for the old headmaster while I dwelt in madness," Tom's voice was cold and forbidding. "But you have always been loyal to the Dark in your nature, if not to me…so I am offering this one chance to join me again. Pledge your allegiance or die a martyr for the Light. This is your only choice." His speech was crisp and concise, but there was no mistaking Tom's exact intentions. Harry had a nagging feeling that if he wasn't present Snape would already be under the Cruciatus at this point, if not something worse.

The sallow-faced man glanced once more at him, and Harry almost caught something new stirring in his eyes, like something coming back to life after a long sleep. Then Snape knelt and bowed his head, allowing oily hair to hide his face.

"I swear myself to you, my Lord."

--

Nymphadora Tonks shivered, even under her heavy winter cloak and the enveloping warmth and comfort that permeated Dumbledore's office. Somehow, even that lingering feeling failed to console her as she wrapped her arms to embrace herself.

Her unseeing eyes stared at the letter in front of her as the rest of the Order crowded about, but Tonks barely heard their exclamations as they read its contents.

All she knew was that Remus had left the Light, and her, for the Dark side and Fenrir Greyback.

She couldn't bring herself to feel angry. Grief surged through every pore of her body, leaving dull skin and a numb feeling in its wake. Even amidst the chaos and Dumbledore's calls for order, Tonks did not look up, her eyes still reading the letter that wasn't in front of her anymore. She sat enduring the fact that the man she loved most in the entire world had left her for a savage murderer, no matter how kindly he might have worded the message just for her.

Neither did Nymphadora feel the tears that streamed down her cheeks and silently, miserably, struck the table.

--

Chill air played across his chest, but Remus paid it no mind despite his lack of shirt. Remus continued to gain only advantages from finally accepting and incorporating the wolf as part of himself, one of which was the werewolf's extreme resistance to cold. This fact was evidenced by the fact that he felt quite comfortable sitting out on a rock cleared of snow, dressed in only trousers and a pair of boots he'd lain to the side.

A bare breast that radiated heat snuggled into his side, but Remus only smiled gently and continued to read aloud from '_The Two Towers,_' running a finger under each word he read.

Pamela was one among many uneducated werewolves in Måneshire, as many had been bitten as children then ostracized before they had the chance at an education. Such was Pamela's case. But unique to her case, when Remus Lupin, a full magically educated werewolf, came to their community she took the opportunity to ask him to teach her to read. At twenty-two years of age, Pamela possessed a quick wit that could outsmart many of her pack members, including her own mate, Lucil. Lupin had been quite happy to take her on as a student.

Remus finally came to the end of the chapter and marked his place with a proper bookmark, as he detested dog-earing precious books.

"That was great! I actually know some of the words before you read them, Remus! Wait 'till I tell Lucil!" she grinned, amber eyes glinting in the last rays of sunlight. Keeping his gaze resolutely on the nearly-naked woman's face, Remus smiled again, relaxed in an area that had rapidly become his home in his mind throughout the last few months.

"Yes, you're doing very well. And how is Lucil? I haven't seen him for a few days."

Pamela shrugged. "He's fine! More excited about the hunt tonight than me learnin' to read, though…" she paused, her eyes narrowing slyly. "Are you goin?"

Remus raised his eyebrows, not sure what she was getting at. "I suppose I will. Why do you ask?"

Her grin returned full force as she leaned in a bit closer, tweaking the edge of his moustache on a face he otherwise couldn't stand to let hair grow on, despite his residence in the wilds. "Aww, you're funny. Don't be coy with me, Remus. Everyone knows you've been avoiding the alpha all month 'cept for the Dark Lord's meetin's. How'd Fenrir convince you to go if you're still pullin' a magic act every time he shows his face?"

The man felt a hot blush seep through to his face and chest, and his hands clenched on the book. "Perhaps it's time I stopped running away…" Remus choked through his embarrassment, "I…am still aggravated by his presence, when he made my life into a living hell for so many years. But…Fenrir has also given me a home." His eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out what he'd just said. Normally Remus was very close-mouthed about his feelings, but something about Pamela made him want to confide in her.

The female werewolf snuggled closer to her pack member, trying to comfort him with a tight embrace. "The alpha's done some horrible things, but he's tryin'…he wants to make our lives better, give us a place in human society. He wasn't like this before…not so calm. He loves you, Remus. I've seen it; the whole pack can see it when he speaks to you. You _are_ his chosen mate. Do you love him back?"

Intelligent, feral eyes that carried too many years gazed into his own, framed by brown hair and a face that calmly sought an answer from her mentor.

"I…I really don't know, Pamela."

"I think you do."

--

A few dark words to Snape were all it took for Voldemort to send the man on his way. The lord was far from trusting him - no, he knew better than that - but for now he would allow the potions master the benefit of the doubt and let him go without any lasting damage, at least until he wasn't so busy.

The serpentine man turned back to his young love. Another flicker of anger came and went as Voldemort's mind fixed once again on the danger Aspen had been in, and he didn't even know _why_.

"Now, tell me exactly what caused you to show up mortally wounded on my doorstep, Aspen," his voice came out harsher than he meant it to; he could see a glimmer of anxiety in the vampire's face.

"Tom…er, I not sure-" Aspen glanced at Weasley, a clear signal he wasn't sure whatever he had in mind was safe to say in front of his friend. Voldemort wasn't sure _what_ Aspen would be keeping from the redhead at this point, and he needed to find out before his irritation overwhelmed him.

"Weasley, out."

"What?!" the boy squawked indignantly. The dark lord glared at him, wishing he could just Cruciate the brat and get on with it.

"Fine, I get it. I'm just the tactics person, you know, the one with all the battle plans? But don't let me on any _real_ secrets, nooooo!" Weasley threw his hands up in exasperation and a scowl crawled across his freckled mug.

"Sorry, Ron. I promise I'll tell you later if…if Tom says it's okay," the last was directed more at him than the other teen. Voldemort kept his face stony.

The redhead sighed, "It's fine, really. I'm just glad you're all right, Harry." He gave the vampire a quick hug and departed.

When Aspen finally turned his gaze to Voldemort, the Dark Lord had only one thing to say. "You'd better have a damn good explanation, or I am never letting you out of that bed again!"

He felt more than a little incensed when Aspen just smiled calmly at his threat. "I promise I have a good reason, but can you get this thing off so I can show you?" he plucked at the tight bandage that covered his torso, including what was left of the clothing he'd been wearing when…whatever had happened to him happened.

Forcing himself to cool down, Voldemort couldn't help but ask, "Are you healed enough to take the bandage off?" He wasn't sure if he could handle the sight of Aspen's entrails again. Aspen just smiled back in reassurance. With a sigh, Voldemort slowly sat and unwound the cloth without magical aid. Helping the younger sit up and unraveling the bandage was nerve-racking, but the man couldn't say that he hadn't hoped for the pale, unmarred skin that was eventually revealed beneath. Before Voldemort could say a word, Aspen's smaller frame leaned into his as he pulled something from a pocket and gently placed it in one of the lord's spindly hands.

Voldemort's breath hitched as ruby eyes caught sight of an opal-stoppered vial and the black, icy liquid inside. "This…can't be…"

"Happy early birthday, Tom."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I'm sort of back. It's creepy how Empy nad I are in tune, so we should beeeing some Para soon. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a 20 page journal to write reflecting on the past year that I can barely recall (what have I really done besides fanfics anyway?). Has anyone checked out my new oneshot? Review and tell me what you think!


	16. Poison and Bloodsuckers of All Types

_"__The doctrine of equality! There exists no more poisonous poison: for it seems to be preached by justice itself, while it is the end of justice.__"_

**Friedrich Nietzsche **

_--_

His hands were shaking far too much for him to do this work properly, but Severus Snape desperately needed something to keep him away from the whiskey cabinet and the sweet, painful oblivion it promised. Instead he resorted to methodically sorting and relabeling his potion stores, a task which had been neglected far too long during recent events. The hard fact that nearly all his free time of the past few weeks had been spent drinking himself into a stupor made Severus scowl.

'_Nightshade…Runespoor venom…belladonna…'_ Unlike many other masters he knew, Severus kept his ingredients and potions organized by use rather than alphabetical name. Such a system made it easier when he needed a copious amount of one thing, such as healing potions, and stalled those trying to steal from his stock by keeping them searching for something in particular while Severus set to investigate whomever had set off his wards.

A sudden colorful curse escaped when the bottle he held fell out of his shaking hand with a crash, smattering Snape's robes with harmless orange dye. Mindlessly he sank to the floor, staring at his trembling fingers. He should be used to this, as uncontrollable quivering was one of the many aftereffects of the Cruciatus….but he hadn't been under the torture spell this night - not even once.

"_No longer can you keep a foot in both worlds, straddling the Light and Dark. You must choose." _

And he had. He had chosen the side he'd been fighting and spying against for so long under the guise of his own hatred. But the hatred had not been the reason for what he was doing, rather, it was for what the Dark was doing that prevented him from protecting Lily's son - and what had prevented him from being true to his very nature.

"_With you here, there really is no hope for the Light side, is there?" _

How could he have not seen? Harry Potter had long gone over to the Dark, and Snape had been working for Dumbledore trying, futilely, to keep the boy safe. Severus felt like one of his thick-headed students; too stupid to see what was right in front of him. Years of spying were for naught - the Dark Lord had known all along what he was doing.

'_Lily's son…Lily's boy is the Dark Lord's lover.'_ The thought made him want to laugh and cry and retch at once. Her son's alliance would go against all that she'd believed in, but suited everything that Severus had ever dreamed. Hard as it was to take in, Lily's child was safe with and, Merlin forbid, actually _loved_ by the Dark Lord. The knowledge still made him quake in disbelief, but Weasley's continuing existence was proof enough that Severus should reevaluate his convictions.

The Dark Lord loved Harry Potter, and would obviously kill anyone who got in the way of protecting him without a second thought. Simple as that.

"_I swear myself to you, my Lord."_

'_But there is no need for that loyalty anymore.'_

Severus stood and one shuddering hand settled on a small jar of oleander leaves, but did not move to grasp it. With the Dark Lord's protection from those such as Dumbledore, Lily's son no longer needed the armor that Severus Snape had provided the past six years. Which meant that Severus Snape was no longer needed at all. (1)

Willing himself under complete control, Severus clenched his jaw and picked up the jar with solid determination. But then he froze, eyes of obsidian ice narrowing on the dusty footprint of a bottle on one tucked-away shelf. A very important potion was gone when Severus had not used it himself and his wards had not been broken. He set the oleander back in its place…

For in that instant Severus knew exactly whom had taken his Veritaserum and why.

--

Harry drooped at the sight of another flight of stairs. Though he'd been walking the route to Gryffindor Tower for six long years, his current exhaustion made the path seem endless.

Harry'd left Tom late the night before by his own choosing. Though he stayed to give the man reassurance that he was alive and well, Harry had missed far too many classes to skip another day without facing serious consequences, despite how much he'd rather spend time with Tom. In addition, the lord needed time to test the Dementor blood to ensure that it was truly what he needed. Harry desperately hoped it was. It would tear them both apart to have hope so neatly placed before them then snatched away.

A quick trip to Ron's room informed Harry that the redhead was already asleep. He wouldn't be surprised if upon return, he found Ron bound and gagged to stop the inquisition the boy was sure to unleash on Tom in the morning. Harry was glad he wouldn't be present for it.

Classes throughout the day went smoothly though Harry fought rapidly encroaching exhaustion. Even Defense Against the Dark Arts flew by, as Professor Snape ignored him almost entirely. Only once did Harry caught the man's eye, anxious to know how he'd handled the revelations of the night before. Snape's eyes simply narrowed and his mouth parted as if to speak, but he turned away at the last second and yelled at Parvati and Lavender for their loud gossip relating to the next day's feast.

And really, Harry didn't see the big deal in the Christmas Eve feast or Slughorn's party. He didn't want to go to either, but Slughorn's constant niggling voice rang in his ears, whining on and on about all the Slug Club meetings he'd declined invitation to, and how he would be ever-so-delighted if the 'Chosen One' would deign to attend his celebration. In the end Harry gave in, agreeing just to get the man's malodorous self away from him.

"Baubles," Harry let out with a relieved breath, hitching his bag up one last time.

"Same to you, deary," the Fat Lady smiled at him while her friend Violet tittered in the background. He sent back a wan smile of his own, climbing through the portrait hole and thinking of nothing more than the urgent need to go collapse into bed.

Such was not to be, for the moment he stepped through he was accosted by a girl he vaguely remembered by the name Romilda Vane. She smiled in a way that Harry supposed was designed to be cute, showing off teeth that could only have gotten so white and pearly through the use of magic.

"Hi, Harry! Fancy a gillywater?" She thrust a goblet out, and Harry blinked, taken aback for a moment.

"Er, no thanks."

She winked, not in the slightest bit deterred, and showed it by shoving a box into his hand. "Take these anyway. They're Cauldron Cakes with firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them-"

Harry stopped listening as a curious scent caught his nose, tickling at the edge of his strained senses. It took him a moment for his tired brain to recognize the sweet smell of a love potion; similar to Amortentia, but far weaker. Gagging, Harry dropped the box without further ado - the girl was trying to enchant him! If Harry had taken even one bite, he would've been upchucking for a week - love potions didn't mix well at all with his own blood supplement, as Noir had so bitterly informed him one winter morn.

He could feel anger build up in his chest and Harry shoved it down harshly, but not very thoroughly. He sneered at the girl and the others who watched the exchange with avid interest.

"In case you haven't heard the rumors_, _I'm gay and apparently taken," he snarled at the stunned witch. "So you can take your _Cauldron Cakes_ and those other poisons and leave me alone! I don't need some girl trying to bewitch me at every chance she gets along with all the other shit I'm dealing with," he kicked the box back to Romilda's feet and directed the last words to everyone. Harry couldn't bring himself to be surprised when a gaggle of girls and even a few blokes ducked their heads in shame or embarrassment.

'_This isn't worth it,'_ he thought, precluding further yelling. Instead he stomped past the still gaping girl to his dorm and blissful sleep.

--

Harry stared into the mirror uncomfortably and adjusted the neck on his bottle-green dress robes. _'I'll have to get new ones soon, especially if Tom has anything to say about it,'_ he commiserated with a sigh, eyeing the several centimeters of exposed skin around his ankles. He could feel a headache coming on despite the refreshing sleep of the night before.

Tonight was Christmas Eve and the date of Slughorn's party, but it was also the night that Tom had decided to perform the ritual to heal his soul. Harry's face spilt into a grin under the effects of the joy he'd felt when Tom sent affirmation. The dementor blood was real and Tom would soon be human again.

"Did someone slip you a Daydreaming Elixir? You're pretty out of it," a voice called from beside him, snapping Harry out of his stupor so that he finally noticed the person standing next to him.

"Ah! Er, hi Neville. Didn't see you there…" Harry was even more surprised he hadn't heard or smelled him, but attributed that to his lack of attention. Neville simply smiled at him, the slight chub around his eyes crinkling. But Harry didn't fail to notice the way the other's gaze fixated on his face suddenly or how he stiffened. Neville's sudden intensity made Harry wary.

"Look, Harry, I'm just wanted to talk to you. I'm not going to ask what you were daydreaming about or why you're suddenly sporting fangs-"

He jerked involuntarily at the words, clapping a hand over his mouth as Harry suddenly realized that _'Shit,' _he'd become too relaxed in his euphoria of the day before to remember to reapply one very crucial glamour - it was a miracle no one had noticed before now when he'd been walking around, teeth bare. Thank Merlin he'd at least had the presence on mind to change back his eyes and hair and cover the rings, as who _knew_ what amount of trouble that could've caused! But back to the matter at hand…

"Er, Neville, I can explain, really I-" he started, but the wizard cut him off with a raised hand.

"Harry, I meant it when I said I wouldn't ask. I-I was just worried, you know? With everything that's going on with Hermione…and Ron…and all the rumors…" Neville's brown orbs held his steadily, but Harry could smell the nervous sweat wafting off the boy and couldn't help but admire the courage it must take for him to say all of that, especially after what he'd seen…

"I'm not as thick as the rest of them. I'm not listening to the rumors…I…I've seen you getting up at night and, well, I told Luna," he blushed as Harry simply stared at him in shock. "Uh, she said that as long as you weren't harming yourself or anything, she'd stick by you. I agree with her and…well, that's all I wanted to say." Harry blinked as Neville suddenly seemed to run out of steam and started to fidget more the longer he said nothing. The vampire didn't even think of fighting the smile that bloomed across his face, all the horror he'd felt at being discovered vanishing in an instant.

"Thanks so much, Nev. You have no idea…" he breathed, "One day, I'll tell you everything…you and Luna both." Neville smiled back, and both were caught in the moment until Harry suddenly remembered exactly why he was standing there. "Oh! By the way…want to go to Slughorn's party with me? I really don't want to go alone."

The other paled and shuddered. "Thanks, but no thanks, Harry. I see enough of the professor in class."

--

As soon as Harry stepped through the door of Slughorn's office, he groaned and wish he'd spat in the fat professor's face instead of accepting the invitation. The mixed scent of incense and packed bodies combined with the bright golden light and raucous noise was positively _nauseating_.

"That's it, I'm showing myself to Slughorn and getting the bloody hell out of here," he moaned, not sure how long he'd be able to take this before upchucking on some unfortunate witch's expensive dress robes.

"Harry, m'boy!" called a voice across the room, and Harry was torn between a sigh and a snarl.

'_At least it'll be over quickly.'_ Slughorn dragged him along, clutching his arm so tightly Harry thought he might be cutting off his circulation, which in turn made him realize that his heart wasn't beating again and his skin must be rather cold. This time he did sigh in exasperation and trusted that the oblivious people around him wouldn't notice.

"Harry, I want you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires_ - and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

A man with bug-eyed glasses that reminded him disturbingly of Professor Trelawney grabbed at Harry's hand and shook it earnestly. He fought the urge to pull away, smiling weakly at the small man and wanting nothing more than to get away. Then his eyes slid past Worple, landing on the face of the other person Slughorn had introduced. A chill shot up his spine as Harry took in pale skin drawn over sharp bones; dark circles under equally dark, haunted eyes; and the pronounced shadow of teeth behind thin lips. Everything about the emaciated man screamed predatory, and with Slughorn's earlier words, it wasn't hard for Harry to identify just why. As he took in Sanguini's rather alarming state, an unbidden memory was suddenly prodded to life.

"_The vampires of common knowledge are quite different from us, you see," Noir settled back in his chair, voice already geared in what Harry inwardly referred to as 'Lecture Mode.' "In fact, because of those differences they can almost be considered a species apart from ours with the exception of a few key similarities: they burn, shrivel, and die when exposed to sunlight; their wounds heal in a short span, but beheading - or a stake through the heart, for that matter - will kill them quite quickly; blood potions are easily accessible, but nothing will curb their cravings for blood; once turned, a vampire will endure his entire life reining back carnal desires. Sadly, a few give in, ravaging humans in their madness…" _

_The Ancient's gaze was sad and hollow, and Harry could barely stand to look at his mentor in such a state._

"_It is for this reason that the Ministry of Magic views the vampires as far below wizards and only slightly more than monsters - in the same category as werewolves, in fact. Many wizards share that view, but tell me Aspen…do you know in what way the lesser vampires resemble us?"_

_Harry blinked, nonplussed for the moment and trying to guess. "Er, they drink human blood?"_

_Noir smiled wryly. "Yes, but not quite the answer I was looking for. The truth is simple: there are no born vampires. It is true that a great many were turned against their will, but all were humans once nonetheless; just like the Ancients. They were _human_ - and those that keep their minds still are, in the deepest essence. They are alike to you and I, despite all conjecture. Consider that during your…_revolution _upon the world_._"_

"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" Worple was still shaking his hand, and Harry finally had the presence of mind to pull away. He didn't know which of the three men was more shocked when he completely ignored the wizard's exclamations and offered a hand to the vampire, who blinked in astonishment. He heard Worple sputtering slightly in the background but disregarded it, focusing solely on the lesser vampire before him as Sanguini slowly freed a clawed hand from his heavy cloak and reached out.

The moment cold flesh met cold flesh, Harry knew he'd made a mistake.

"_It isn't that hard for other magical species to recognize us, especially as we grow older," Noir tapped his chest. "My heart has not beat in nearly four hundred years. As a result, my skin is always chill to touch. Werewolves are easily able to smell the difference in our pheromones, both from lesser vampires and humans. Our scent carries something immediately distinguishable, I suppose. They know that our race is different, but most werewolves do not carry enough knowledge of our existence to know how. "_

"_Vampires… they're another matter. Somewhere far back in time our races became inextricably linked - perhaps they were even born together. They _know_ us, Aspen. They know of our race, Line Traits, and all that we are capable of. The lesser vampires can identify us with the slightest clues and within mere moments. For that reason they can be dangerous to us - however, they have not yet revealed our society due to their great respect for our race…" the redhead frowned, staring at Harry gravely._

"_You will undoubtedly meet many other races in your lifetime, but the lesser vampires are your closest kin, including even the humans. You will undoubtedly meet countless numbers, many of whom will be subservient to you - don't give me that look, Aspen. How they view their hierarchy is their own business. But you need to recognize their customs and know how to respond…"_

Harry struggled for several long, torturous moments to get over the _'What in Merlin's name are you doing?!'_ feeling twisted up somewhere between his gut and his brain. The vampire - Sanguini - did not bow or speak or do anything that Harry might possibly have expected in this situation. Instead the vampire's chin tipped up dramatically, exposing a jugular within easy reach of Harry's own concealed nails and fangs. Sanguini did not move, locking his eyes into the wizard's and simply waiting in the lesser vampire custom of respect and submission.

Harry blinked once, twice, too stunned to react. Slughorn and Worple were staring avidly, the latter muttering on the vampire's strange behavior already. Harry came back to himself with a jerk, cursing mentally and knowing that he _really _couldn't afford to have any more suspicions cast on him than he already bore. Anxious and unsure, Harry inelegantly shook Sanguini's hand and gave him a stilted nod. The vampire immediately lowered his chin and threw a calculating look at the two humans on their left before coming back to Harry. There was something in the vampire's black gaze that made him relax - it was obvious that Sanguini immediately understood his desire to remain as "human" as possible in the eyes of Harry's fellow wizards.

As their hands parted Sanguini spoke. "It is a pleasure meeting one such as yourself, Harry Potter," the vampire's voice was raspy, as though long unused, but still as rich and deep as the caved hollows in the man's cheeks.

"The pleasure is mine," the words jumped out of his mouth before Harry could think them and he almost scowled. The heavy influence of Noir and Tom in his life was doing a number on his speech patterns.

Worple was babbling on about vampire customs and started to assault Sanguini with questions which the vampire seemed to barely tolerate. Slughorn was frowning though, staring thoughtfully right at Harry. Everything in the young wizard screamed at him to get away from the overly perceptive potions master. Right. Now.

"Er, excuse me, professor, I think I see someone I know over there," Harry hurriedly pointed in a random direction.

"Now wait, old chap-" Slughorn started to protest, but Harry was already gone, lost amidst the sickening press of incense-spiced heartbeats.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is unbetaed due to technical difficulties. If you notice any glaring mistakes please review so I can fix them. Updating is slow going - I feel uninspired to say the least, especially when I get reviews complaining about short chapters and lack of updates. I might take a break and work on Spiritbender or a Snarry or something unless I can pull it together. Please review.

1. Oleander is a decorative flowering bush common in warm climates (of the US, at least). Every part of the plant is extremely poisonous - though even more so when fresh. As such, it's fairly easy to figure out what's on Severus' mind.


	17. A Ritual

Clean air was a blessing. Granted, it was clean air with constant eau de Castle, so there was always a faint scent of mildew and rodent droppings about. Still, the dark corridor just off a main hallway was infinitely better than the room from which Harry'd just escaped. Now if only he knew what the person ghosting after him wanted…

Harry turned to a dark shadow behind the hall pillar.

"What do you want?" Sometimes, there was nothing better than the direct approach. He waited for the other to step forward and supposed it was only his insatiable curiosity that kept him from Flicking off to the safety of Tom's hideaway at that very moment. Harry's best consolation was the thought that at least he didn't have to worry about the vampire that emerged attacking him for blood. Somehow cold blood didn't seem very appetizing to him, so he doubted his own would be any better to the man…though the thought of one vampire drinking another's blood was disconcerting, to the point that he didn't even know if it was possible.

Sanguini's gaze swept down his slight frame once more, and Harry fought the urge to shift around. "You are an Ancient." The statement lacked any hint of uncertainty, and he didn't bother to refute it. Harry figured if he became threatened by the man he could Flick away. Just to be safe, the yew wand was already in his hand and concealed by the drape of a bottle-green sleeve.

"And you're a vampire." The sudden dry humor was not lost on the man, who smiled languidly. "You didn't answer my question."

Sanguini still smiled, white fangs only accenting a sharp contrast in the dark circles under his eyes. "I simply wished to speak to you. It is not every night one such as myself is able to speak with a legendary being while in the company of…wizards," thin lips curled in disgust at the word. "I did not think to see a night when I would meet an Ancient, especially one quite as famous and young as yourself, Harry Potter."

There was a question in the man's face that took Harry a few moments to decipher. Sanguini obviously bore some confusion at his age. "I am recently Turned, if that's what you're wondering."

The vampire nodded. "You are correct in your assumption, but I am still confused. You have been Turned…so why are you here?" _At Hogwarts, among humans; ignorant wizards, _went unsaid. Harry's hand gradually relaxed around his wand as Sanguini seemed to have no intentions of harm, merely curiosity. But Harry knew he'd still have to choose his words carefully.

"I have…purpose here. I suppose…I'm trying to change the way the Wizarding World does things…and how they view certain issues." Sanguini's eyebrows shot up at the last words.

"Then you are involved in the wizard war?" There was little surprise in the raspy voice now - Harry Potter's reputation as the Chosen One made many assume that he would be actively involved in fighting the Dark Lord. Sanguini obviously knew something of current wizarding events.

"Yes." A simple answer seemed to suit the question best.

"Might I enquire…as to which side?" Though half-expected, the question still shocked Harry. No one had ever outright asked him about his loyalties before, and the question seemed to nurture a tiny quiver of foreboding in his stomach. He shoved it down harshly, knowing this was not the time nor the place to clam up. He glanced down the corridor to the larger main hall, which remained relatively deserted while everyone joined in festivities. He didn't quite want to risk pulling out a wand on the off-chance that Sanguini would react badly. Just out with it then, but quietly.

"Voldemort's," Harry breathed, and once again the name felt strange on his tongue. He'd never actually used it when talking to Tom.

The vampire was silent for several long moments, but the sudden quiet was interrupted as two chattering witches passed by outside their corridor. Harry tensed at the disruption but kept his eyes fixed on Sanguini as the man's nostrils flared and the muscles partially concealed behind a high-collared robe strained. He looked everywhere but at Harry until the pair was long gone. Finally, Sanguini deemed to speak.

"At this very moment, _that man_ is most likely searching for me, afraid that I might've cornered a human somewhere and sucked them dry." Harry needed a moment to comprehend that he was talking about the short man, Eldred Worple. "He thinks I am unable to control my impulses; that the moment he takes his eyes from me I will give in to my cravings and attack the nearest heartbeat. In the way of wizards, he thinks of me and my kin as little more than beasts to be examined, questioned, and guarded against. The mere title of his book is an insult to us, for that human worm is anything but a blood brother…" drawled Sanguini. His black gaze seemed to pierce Harry through, driving his words into the younger's brain.

"Voldemort has approached my clan before, promising equal rights and research to help alleviate the hunger of our curse. The elders refused. He is a wizard, violent and not known for keeping his promises. He did not contact us again, and we were glad for it. But now…you, an Ancient, are on his side," his eyes glittered in not-quite malevolence as he spoke, but his words caused Harry's eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline as he grasped what Sanguini was getting at.

"You would join Voldemort just because I'm on his side?"

The man seemed to hold back a snort. "Ancients are known for their meticulous moral values. The fact that you, even as young as you are, have chosen a side is a great indicator among my kin. If my clan arranges an equality treaty with you, we can be certain that you will uphold your end of the bargain. Though I am not the official representative, I believe I may speak for the whole Sang clan when I say that we will fight with your side," Sanguini smiled again, showing a few more pointed fangs than any normal wizard would be comfortable with.

Harry was thrown for a loop. Then another. It took him a full minute gather enough thoughts to piece together a coherent sentence. Some part of him felt like he was acting as Tom or Noir's mouthpiece again. "I appreciate your offer…but the Dark side is working on tactics that require as little bloodshed as possible, so fighting won't be necessary. However, a few of your kin for the intimidation factor wouldn't go amiss," he had to fight not to grin when he spoke the first part, for with "the Dark side is working" he meant "Ron and Tom are arguing over everything." The rest came out surprisingly smooth and the emaciated man looked down with a glint of approval.

"I shall speak to my clan to finalize matters. Expect a confirmation within a few days if that is acceptable."

Harry nodded. "That's just fine." They both stood still for a moment before the man spoke.

"It was a pleasure, Harry Potter, but I must go before the…Worple sends Aurors after me," Sanguini said, bowing this time in a low sweep. Harry curtly bowed back, then checked his watch and cursed.

"I'll see you later, then. I also have somewhere I need to be," he said, sending the vampire an apologetic look for his abruptness and quickly Flicking into nothingness. The vampire stared for a moment at the spot where the Ancient had been, positively dumfounded, before shaking himself harshly and turning to skulk away in the shadows.

---

"You're late. I thought you weren't going to make it," Tom said, not looking up when Harry entered. The room was spacious with a cavernous ceiling and windows open to the night air that breezed through causing candles to flicker. The Dark Lord was bent over, his wand directing a piece of chalk in a wide and perfect circle around him.

"Sorry, Tom, I got waylaid for a bit. You know I wouldn't miss this." It didn't escape Harry's attention how the tension seeped from Tom's shoulders as he relaxed slightly. Harry didn't quite understand how Tom could've believed that he might not show up, but he knew something that would cheer the man up.

"I've gained an alliance with the Sang clan."

The chalk snapped as his concentration broke and Tom whipped around, red eyes wide with disbelief. "You what?!"

Harry eyed the circle, an innate part of him knowing better than to cross it simply to be closer to Tom. "I met a vampire named Sanguini who recognized what I was. We talked and he agreed with an alliance now the I'm with you to 'uphold our end of the bargain,'" he smirked, amused at the stunned expression on Tom's face. But then the Dark Lord frowned.

"Our end of the bargain? And what would that be? I hope that you did not agree to something…foolish."

This time it was Harry's turn to frown. "And _I_ hope that you don't think equal rights for the vampire race _foolish_, or this whole campaign to overturn the Ministry for the equality of the Dark is rubbish! And if it's foolish, you understand my own motivations much less than we both believed." Harry crossed his arms, glaring at the shadow of a man that was his life's love. He could admit that many things he'd done in the past were both thoughtless and naïve, but if Tom couldn't trust him to make a decision that would benefit their side, Harry was going to have to seriously rethink his life's direction.

Tom and Harry exchanged glares for a moment and he could see rage welling up in the man's red eyes. But then Tom reigned it back and banished all traces from his body.

"Forgive me, Assspen. I'm merely anxiousss about the ritual and I ssshouldn't releassse my anger onto you," the apology snuck through a sibilant hiss and Harry could tell it was a difficult admission. He stared at Tom for a moment, then sighed.

"Forgiven - it's my fault for provoking you," before Tom could protest Harry plowed on, moving closer so the he stood a mere foot from the circle's outer rim. "So…what goes into this ritual?"

--

Fingernails black as obsidian tapped impatiently on polished pine as narrow brown eyes scanned yet another article.

"The childe is causing quite a stir…again," he said, still fixed on the picture the frowning green-eyed wizard. A lock of blonde hair fell over his shoulder and he caught the faintest whiff of perfume. "I think it's worth looking into. You never know…"

"Noir knew what he was doing." He heard the frown in her voice without seeing her face.

"_Hai_…yes, but times have changed. We still have no contact with Zane or Dvorak, the evasive bastards. The childe could be up to his teeth in trouble and we wouldn't know. We need to meet with him soon, with or without them."

"You know Zane will have your jewels if we accept the childe without his presence."

"Screw Zane! If he shakes that _baka_ shaman stick at me one more time, I'm going to break it over his damn head!"

She sighed and moved away. "I suppose there is no helping it. We shall have to arrange a conference very soon."

"My thoughts _exactly_."

---

As Harry watched Tom painstakingly draw runes along the outer edges of the ritual circle, he was suddenly struck by the thought that he was looking at a man far older then he, whom was insanely intelligent and possessed much more knowledge about the ways of magic than Harry would be able to learn for many, many years. In that single instant Harry felt indescribably small. How could he possibly measure up to such a man, Lord of the Dark that he was? What did he offer that Tom did not already have? The unbidden thought tried to overrun him, making him uncomfortable with its sincerity…

But then Tom met his eyes for just a moment before finishing the final character, drawing an unfeigned smile. Of _course_, he had the power the Dark Lord had known not. As appallingly sappy as the thought was, Harry offered the lord his love. Perhaps that made up for his own shortcomings.

Tom straightened out of his hunch, rolling his shoulders to relax them. With a lazy wave of his gaunt hand, the six Horcruxes sailed to their positions in the sextagram.

---

Ron heaved a large, gusty sigh and set the quill down. Finally, _finally_, his masterpiece was complete. Ron snorted, the thought sending him into a fit of laughter he didn't even try to stifle. He had to admit, that stack of parchment, filled to the brim with his cramped, messy handwriting, contained the greatest work he'd ever done.

He knew Harry would argue that that wasn't saying much, but _he _didn't have to deal with a bloody infuriating Dark Lord arguing with him at every and shooting down his ideas at every turn, proclaiming them "utterly immature and poorly constructed." In addition, Ron had to deal with the aftermath of the brain…

He hadn't noticed at first, too relieved by the sudden absence of those creepy murderous voices and homicidal urges, but the brain left behind…residue. Memories, knowledge that he couldn't quite grasp. Ron often jerked into sudden awareness over his parchment, lost until that moment in a memory that he could never recall. It was maddening. Voldemort didn't seem overly concerned after he'd discovered it while reinforcing the blocks in his mind, but that hardly comforted Ron. He knew he was of very little importance to the Lord. The only reason he still breathed was because of Harry, and Ron'd been milking that for all it was worth. Still, it grew tiring and lonely here, trapped with only his convoluted mind and books and parchment.

Not even mentioning the bloody snake.

As if sensing his thoughts it let out a long slow hiss and shifted on his lap. He'd thought it was asleep, but it was hard to tell when it had no eyelids. Letalis seemed to have taken a liking to him after they first met, and slowly Ron had been able to overcome his instinctive fear. He became even more willing to be near it when he discovered Letalis kept Voldemort's huge boa constrictor away. He suspected _that _one would have no qualms whatsoever about eating him for an afternoon snack.

But now the planning was complete, and he was _bored_. The Lord-High-and-Mighty-Big-Shot-Told-You-So-Boss-of-the-World had explicitly ordered him not to bother him even if he finished "The Plan," so that left the restless teenager with very few options. He was sick of books and even playing chess against himself. The only option that sounded remotely appealing was to stroll around the manor, and perhaps taking a quick fly around the yard.

Ron grinned, poking the deadly white snake in his lap. "Wake up, let's go!"

---

_The pain of remorse_. As the words echoed through his mind, Harry decided they didn't come close to describing the sheer agony Tom was in.

He'd been warned, Tom had stressed the need to not interfere with the spell, no matter how much pain he was in.

"_If you intervene, I will die."_ His words were simple, and the only thing holding Harry back as the circle glowed the same sickly green as the Killing Curse and Tom began to scream. The Dementor Blood applied to each Horcrux hissed undetectably, separating the shattered soul from its receptacles. The glow strengthened and the cries of the Lord in the center reached a new high.

_Tom…Tom…_ Harry shuddered, claws digging into his arms as he held himself back. He could not feel Tom's pain, as the man had blocked their connection before the commencement of the ritual, but he felt tortured nonetheless. Tom was suffering for them both, and it was all Harry could to keep from crossing over the line. He cast a sticky charm on his feet to still his involuntary steps and looked forward, already resolved to watch and wait until the bitter end.

Harry could hardly see the man through the dark smoke and the ethereal glow, but he made out a writhing form on the stone floor. He smelled magic, death and blood overwhelming his senses as Tom's screams reached a horrid climax and the room grew to bright for Harry's sensitive eyes. Tears escaped, eyes slid shut.

There was a flash, a series of cracks, a shudder that would have sent Harry to his feet if not for the charm, then horrid silence.

And for a moment, there was nothing.

---

Omake:

Voldemort sighed where he stood in the middle of the circle then pulled out his wand and with a slight twirl just to show off, he jabbed it into thin air.

"Accio Horcruxi."

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow.

"What's to stop other wizards from just summoning them if you can do it?"

Voldemort looked insulted, "Do think me so daft as to not put a specialized Anti-Summoning ward on them?"

Harry shrugged and smirked, not trusting himself to say a word.

---

Omake, Chapter 15:

"It's like watching Mum yell, 'Do you know how much trouble you're in, mister?!' then kissing my dad silly… just disturbing," Ron shuddered with a pained face.

Harry and Voldemort blinked, then the vampire grinned.

"You realize he just called you his mum, don't you?"

----

A/N: So yes, I'm back from NaNoWriMo. No, I didn't win because I am a slow writer and easily distracted by other, shiny stories. This chapter is not yet betaed, and dedicated to Isabelle Eir, who pointed out that the last chapter came out a year after I started the story. Thanks so much dear! I promise your HP/Twilight oneshot is coming soon!

I'm looking for translators that are somewhat proficient in French, Japanese, and Chinese. Preferably people who can translate a few sentences for me without using an online translator like I've been doing. :D Help would be most appreciated! Those good at the art of insulting others are also valued highly.


	18. Lies

**Chapter 18:**

"_With lies you may go ahead in the world, but you can never go back…" _

–_Russian Proverb_

* * *

Neville breathed slowly. Harry was gone again, but he had no idea as to where.

Did it matter? Sometimes Neville questioned himself. He was supposed to _care_. Harry was a vampire and so blatantly Dark that it hurt. Neville was Light, raised by a harsh Light grandmother who expected him to follow in the brightly-lit footsteps of his amazing parents. Neville's fist clenched in the bed sheets and he turned, releasing a small whimper.

He wasn't supposed to remember what had happened to his dear Light parents.

The obliviate used on him as a child was clumsy; the Healer too rushed in flood of patients from the aftermath of the war to care much about the memories of one child… Even if said child's most horrible memory was that of his parents screaming as they were tortured into insanity and the Cruciatus was turned upon him by Dark enchanters.

At times Neville wondered why he was sticking by Harry when it became more obvious as time went on that the vampire was nowhere near the young Golden Boy he'd been when they first became friends.

"He cares for us, Neville. You know what he's like. If it comes down to it, he'd protect his friends from anything, even rabid Horklumps!" Luna's eyes had been strangely clear when she said the words. Voicing his qualms to Luna about Harry's vampirism and allegiances had made his talk with his old friend a thousand times easier, but Neville still wondered.

Neville turned under the covers again. The dorm wasn't the same without Harry and Ron.

The night was too quiet.

* * *

The woman across from Tonks had a high-boned, imperial face. Her dark eyes were sharp and bottomless, and her face held the lines of ageless grace in spite of her hard life.

Nymphadora favored studying the wood grain of the table over looking at her.

"Mum…" her voice cracked.

"Dora…I heard."

"Yeah, I-I…"

"Why did you wait so long to come to me?" Andromeda's voice held a gentle reproach.

"I…need to be strong. I needed to keep on going, but I c-can't-" Tonks stopped again, and this time there were tears welling in her eyes. Her mother rose, circling the table to take Tonks' hands in her own.

"Dora, you are an Auror, a member of the Order, and one of the strongest young women I've ever met – and not just because you're my daughter," Andromeda smiled, tucking a piece of mousy hair behind Tonk's ear. "But it's alright to feel. Anger, betrayal, grief. That's all perfectly normal for something like this."

"S-something like this?" Nymphadora choked, her throat closing. "I l-loved him. I was going to give him my heart, and then…h-he left me. For the Dark. For another man!" She was on the verge of a breakdown, but her mother seemed to realize it and clasped her shoulders with firm hands, forcing Tonks to stare into her dark eyes.

"Yes, he did. That was Remus' choice and I doubt anything you could've done would have changed his mind. The man has chosen his path, Dora. Now you must choose yours. Are you going to fight for your choice, your beliefs, or are you going to wallow in self-pity? I should hope I've taught you better than that." Though the words were spoken tenderly, there was no mistaking the note of reproof in her voice. Tonks stared at her hands, scarred from battle and hardly recognizable as her own after so long spent under a different guise. She took a deep breath and looked up at her mother, the endless well of patience, love, and kindness who had supported her since before she could remember. As her mother waited, Tonks surveyed her memories, plunging into long days filled with ceaseless training and espionage for a man who never gave her more than vague reassurances that everything would be alright; despite her loss, despite the pain and the never-ending numbness toward the rest of the world. She looked up.

"I…am very tired. Can I please rest here for a bit?" she questioned softly, pulling out her wand and setting it on the table. A light reached Andromeda's eyes, one which her daughter hadn't seen in a very long time. She reached over and pocketed the wand, out of Tonks' sight.

"Of course, Dora," Andromeda smiled.

* * *

Tom was naked when Harry hauled him to the bedroom, but the vampire hadn't been thinking about that. He'd been too fixated on getting him out of that evil circle-from-Hell and getting the man somewhere comfortable to aid in his recovery.

Soon enough he had him settled, but Tom remained still and unresponsive. Thankfully, he was breathing and Harry could hear his heart beating regularly.

After many years of paper dullness, color adorned Tom's cheeks.

Once Harry covered him in the comfortable duvet, he had nothing to do but wait with Tom and take in the alterations wrought upon the Lord's body. So much had changed! His skin was no longer a translucent off-white tone, but carried color - still pale but much more alive. His hair had grown from previously bare skin, sweeping out and curling around Tom's ears in dark waves which made Harry want to touch the locks at any given moment. The only difference from years previous was the peppering of regal gray around his temples and brow.

The biggest transformation lay in Tom's face. Harry's eyes slid over the thin lips and proud nose set against high cheekbones, knowing that this was what Tom was _meant_ to look like. As much as Tom liked snakes, he'd never wanted to be one such as he'd been. _This_ man carried his age well. As strange as it was to think about, Harry was glad the nearly sixty-year old wizard looked closer to thirty-five or forty.

'…Because that would be really weird.' Harry laughed aloud at the thought. 'Weird' in his life was a relative term.

Tom was handsome on the brink of beautiful, and the man's slack face brought memories of teenage love back down on him full force. He flushed, trying to ignore the sudden heat under his robes as he examined Tom's tall, bony body, wrought thin by stress and a constant stream of energy-sucking Dark arts. Harry's gaze fell on his hands. They were still marvelously long-fingered but missing the extra joint that had adorned them for so long, and Tom's nails were cracked and bleeding - probably from scrabbling at the stone floor in the throes of agony. He sent a quick spell at the digits to close the wounds. If anything, Harry thought he'd missed Tom's hands the most. They were warm and soft and dexterous, inducing pleasure and comfort in equal measure. Now they were finally familiar again and that relieved Harry, no matter how accustomed he'd grown to Tom's new body.

He took Tom's hand. It was warm and fit well in his, just as Harry remembered, though perhaps a bit broader and without calloused old skin. He smiled, suddenly overcome by a wave of fatigue. He could not leave Tom, not after his ordeal, but they hadn't slept in the same bed once since he'd traveled back. 'But,' he reasoned, 'surely it would be alright…'

Harry gingerly lowered himself next to Tom, his body on top of the duvet but his face pressed close enough that he could nearly feel the thrum of Tom's blood beneath the skin. Tom was warm, very different from himself in the absence of a heartbeat, so Harry drew closer, finally pressing his nose into the crook of the man's neck.

He went to sleep with a contented smile on his lips.

* * *

Tom glared into the mirror, and crimson eyes blazed back at him with astounding ferocity despite being set in his old face. Their color was the last remaining evidence of his tattered soul; the mark of those he'd killed and the blood of hundreds on his hands.

Truthfully, he assumed that they were the byproduct of his damaged diary. The item had been summoned and used in the circle, but the piece of soul it had harbored was destroyed four years ago - lost forever. It brought some amusement when he remembered Aspen's profuse apologies for that - the boy had been a mere second year at the time and the situation was far from repairable now. Voldemort would simply have to live with his eyes. They would forever mark the stain of his actions and the missing piece of his soul, but at least he would have one person who did not care about that.

He moved slowly over to the bed, body stiff and aching from the agony he'd suffered not hours before. In the wee hours of the morning Aspen was still asleep, curled on top of the duvet with his hands stretched out, reaching across the expanse that Voldemort had recently vacated. It was endearing to wake to the lithe young man pressed against him, and Voldemort definitely hadn't wanted to get up, but he desperately needed to see; to note the changes in himself that would set him back on the path of sanity…

As he watched Aspen let out a low groan, scooting closer to the warm spot the Lord had left behind.

This was the first chance in a long time that Voldemort had had to simply study Aspen. The young man was still wearing his bottle-green robes from the party the night before - he frowned when he noticed how shy the fringe came of Aspen's wrists. He was going to replace those, knowing that Aspen would never think to do it. His hands twitched, itching to act on his thoughts, but Voldemort stilled them – now was not the time to be worrying about robes.

Merlin, how long had it been since he'd just _looked_ at his lover without clouds of stress and danger hanging over them both? Aspen's jaw cut a sharp contrast against the dark pillow, the faintest hint of scruff about his chin making Tom smile. Weak circles under his eyes made Tom frown in turn. The young man was working far too hard to take care of himself, doing everything he could to further Tom in the world, to care for him.

And damn if he didn't find that endearing.

Voldemort was still gazing at Aspen when his body chose to remind him how very, very naked he was. He groaned – now was not the time with his love still asleep, his body a mass of aches, and a disgusting amount of blood crusting under his finger nails. Now was _not the time_.

Tom sank to the bed carefully, trying to unsuccessfully shove down his sudden arousal. It was not to be.

Aspen chose that moment to sniff, opening his eyes just a hair. "Mornin'...you all right?" he managed around a yawn that served to emphasize sharp incisors. Amusement flooded him, but Voldemort only allowed himself a raise of an eyebrow.

"It's so early in the morning that I suspect 'Night' is a better term. Obviously, I am recovered." A moment later Tom softened, his hand drifting of its own volition to brush Aspen's face.

"That's good," the younger smiled. "Merlin, you're more bloody gorgeous now than you were as a teen." Tom started, taken aback at the unexpected compliment, and watched a red patch to rival Weasley's hair spread across Aspen's cheeks. Apparently Voldemort's new body came with a libido nearly impossible to ignore, every part of it urging him to press forward and kiss the other.

'_Why not?'_ Before he knew he was moving, he brushed his lips against Aspen's in what began as a chaste kiss and ended with Tom pressing Aspen back into his pillow, their hands tangled in each other's hair.

He felt heat course through him. _This_ was another part of what he'd been missing, what had left him the moment Aspen disappeared in his teens. This-this ache for life, to partake of its moments instead of hoarding time, had finally returned.

When they pulled back for air, Aspen ran a finger down the line of his jaw. The eyes of the young man beneath Tom were wide, almost incredulous.

"I – wow, I just - it worked! You've even got stubble."

Voldemort blinked. He had a supple new (or old, depending on how one views such matters) body, a returning dynamic libido, and his teenage lover flushed underneath him. The aforementioned young man was talking about _hair_.

"I think you have far too many clothes on," the Dark Lord growled, banishing the dress robes with twitching eyebrow. Then his hands set to work.

* * *

The sex had been bloody wonderful. Harry sighed, staring at his warm cereal. Hell, it had been more than wonderful, it was _amazing_. It'd been somewhat of a shock to see ruby eyes still staring down at him in the wee hours of the morning, but his shock was quickly set aside as Tom's purely _human_ features threatened to overwhelm him. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such burning, unadulterated lust. In what he had gleaned from Tom's hooded eyes and demanding hands and mouth, Tom couldn't either. Only once did the man flinch as Harry's hand brushed over raw skin. He'd paused, but Tom's possessive kiss silenced all protestations against Tom's pain. From there everything had been about the heat and friction as they pressed into one another and the sight of Tom's face flushed with passion-

And if Harry didn't stop that line of thought he would be experiencing something very embarrassing in front of the rest of the students who'd chosen to remain over the winter holidays. Harry flushed, coming out of his euphoric haze to realize that Neville was shooting him confused looks across the table and wary stares from the Slytherins were pricking the back of his neck.

Harry hastily spooned a few bites of cereal to his mouth and took a draw off his pumpkin juice in an attempt to cool down. Harry _really_ didn't feel like explaining the sordid details of his unexpected mood to Neville - Harry was halfway through another gulp when he realized something was wrong. The pumpkin juice tasted sharp and strange on his tongue… Harry choked as his fingers spasmed around the goblet, which dropped with a clatter and a splash on the wooden table. The sharp taste on his tongue was so achingly familiar, but Harry couldn't place it.

The next instant his whole body spasmed, then went limp as Harry lost control of his voluntary muscles. His heart stopped in an attempt to block the progress of whatever had entered his body while his mind froze in shock and terror as a wave of nausea rolled in his stomach. Harry gasped as he desperately tried to figure out what could cause such a reaction. The first that leapt to mind was Romilda's love potion or meat reacting with his blood supplement, or – a distant memory swam to the surface, hazy in reminiscence as Harry recalled a sharp, impossible smell and a bubbling cauldron of what appeared to be water.

'No. It can't be!'

Someone – probably a first year girl – shrieked as Harry collapsed against the table.

* * *

A/N: Here's the (unbetaed) chapter for all of you wondering about the Veritaserum. For future reference, I hate FF . net. They keep stealing my page dividers and frustrating me with their content limitations. On top of that, receiving reviews like "update!1! LOL" make me want to throw my computer into a wall. I will be active on LJ.

I've had good personal reasons for not updating which I will not share. UCG is officially on hiatus as I work on projects more interesting to me - deal with it.


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